Undead Madness
by Hitomi Zotz
Summary: Following a Malkavian in the Bloodlines world, it's not a retelling of the gameplay though the start comes from the game intro. Once known as Sarah now Ariadne, one mad Malkavian find themselves caught up in vampire politics and their memories. SEQUEL NOW UP!
1. Chapter 1

_New fanfic based around Vampire the Masquerade: Bloodlines. I only know a little about the wider world of Masquerade from reading but I've played none of the other games so apologies now for inaccuracies. This fanfic is told from the point of my OC Sarah/Ariadne a recently sired Malkavian who works for Sebastian but was found wandering and causing trouble in Hollywood by Isaac Abrams who considered her nature too beautiful to destroy. Now she spends her time in Hollywood caught between wanting to remember Sarah and wanting to forget. Things are unsettled in the vampire world however and with the Baron of Hollywood dragged into events so to is Ariadne.  
>Updated this chapter since it wasn't accurate to the rest of the story as I did it before I had the story properly planned out, now it all makes sense :-).<br>_

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><p>When a handsome young blond tells you he has saved your life you should probably thank him. I did nothing of the sort for two reasons- one, as far as I could tell I had no life to save, I was dead already, and two, as far as I had gathered he had saved my life from himself. At least, no one else in the room I had been dragged into seemed to want to kill me. I say room but really I mean theatre, forgive the foggy details but I have just been pulled from my room and dragged here after, if memory serves, someone just tried to eat me and managed to paint the room in my blood, tried to… My whole throat and neck are throbbing, I think he succeeded, which brings me back to my first point, that I have no life to save.<p>

I was on the stage of the theatre, kneeled in the middle drawing all eyes to me. My attacker, some mad stranger, has just been turned to flaming ashes before my eyes and I want to vomit. It's unreal; some giant who really can't be human just beheaded him with a sword. I was expecting a rain of blood like in the movies of old and then the thud of a corpse. I was not expecting orange fire, charred bones and then black ash. It's a nightmare only the throbbing of my throat and neck tell me I'm awake.

I looked down at my white shirt and frowned, it was covered in blood. Had to be thankful that I was wearing it though, my last memories before being dragged from my room I wasn't wearing much. I glanced over at the ashes; I don't care my attacker's ash now.

The handsome young blond started talking and a French accent came out. He came to stand behind me, taking the centre spot so that all eyes were now on him but of course they weren't really, they were on me, the wild looking brunette wearing only a bloodstained white shirt and nothing else. I continued to look at the people but none were familiar and even the most normal of them looked weird, which I loved. Maybe I should have been scared but I wasn't, confused yes but not scared, thrilled in fact. One proportionately blessed redhead with an ample bosom looked directly at me with a sparkle in her eyes and smiled. I wanted to smile back but I refrained, considering the bearded man scowling at me and the handsome looking man in the tailored suit with eyes of disinterest might misinterpret the gesture.

"I have decided to let this unfortunate exist," the blonde announced.

Unfortunate? Me? Well I did not bear Midas' golden hand to have a fortune but nor did I bear Medusa's cursed snake mane so perhaps I was not so unfortunate…

The young looking bearded man stood up and glared at the blond behind me with open hostility. This man wore a stained white vest, a worn, short sleeved, blue denim jacket, black trousers, black boots and two chunky steel bracelets and four plain rings for accessories. Everything about him screamed tough rebel, a wily, thorny rose growing up above the daisies. "Why?" he demanded moodily. How rude! Why not?

"Her existence is not her fault," came the cool reply, "and as such, she deserves a chance."

"Bullshit!" the man spat back instantly. "Who are you to decide a kindred's fate upon a whim? What gives you the right to kill the sire?"

"It is the way of the Masquerade, siring must be controlled for all our sakes'," came the calm response. Masquerade? But where were the masks? I peered closely at my small audience and disappointingly saw not a one.

"Bullshit!" the man repeated before storming off.

I grinned with amusement.

That was six months ago back when I lost my sanity, or so I have been told, I suspect I merely put it into a box and forgot where I left said box. Can't say it's bothered me much though it does unnerve some of those around me, they're deaf to the voices poor things. I once tried to help someone hear them but ripping off his ears merely led to a pretty mess on the floor. Well I thought it was pretty but the master of beauty, my dear Toreador, didn't think so.

Isaac Abrams, name just rolls off the tongue, became a keeper of mine a month ago. I caused a little trouble in his starry territory and he found my nature too beautiful to destroy or exile, at least that is what he said but I know the silver winged demons were the ones who convinced him not to do it. I'm still not quite sure what he meant by what he said though, made me wonder if I had grass and flowers growing out of me and then I tried to grow some but it didn't work.

I should probably leave this prickly wood city and return to my Napoleonic master but I can't think why I should and the voices keep telling me to stay. I came here because of my blond general, he ordered me to sort out something here but I can't think what it was now… I got distracted by all the twinkling lights and then I met Isaac. He's not as mean as the blond one but I like mean sometimes.

"What are you doing?" this droll came from the sombre Ash Rivers. Sombre, what a funny word that is, it should be the name of an instrument really. I paused in my attempt to catch the fairies that I knew were hiding in the lampshade and put my foot down, letting it join its brother (or sister, it's hard to say) on the stool.

"I'm looking for fairies," I explained as I grinned over at him, "they like to hide with dust."

Ash looked at me disapprovingly as was his way. "Of course they do." Ash was a handsome devil, rugged enough to be manly but not too rugged to be brutal. He had neatly cut, thick, dark hair, the stubble of a beard and moustache, blue eyes that were so pale they were almost clear and that white skin we all possess, though his is pasty and grey. Ash had been a vampire for seven years and considers it more of a curse than any being I know. He had gone from being a Hollywood star to being a drama queen. An overdose had led to his vampirism as our wonderful Toreador had been unable to let his talent fade so young. Now Mr. Hollywood runs a club called the Asp Hole, it's a pretty place that beckons you with red glowing letters.

"You don't see them firedust because they don't like you," I informed him cheerfully. I sprang from the seat and grabbed hold of the lampshade with both of my hands. It was just as the faded red door opened that I and the lampshade went crashing down just like Jack and Jill.

Isaac strode in and gave me a pitying look. "Playing again?" he queried innocently.

I looked to him and nodded cheerfully before turning my gaze to the one behind him. I did adore Isaac but this other Toreador was something else. Handsome, calm, collected, insightful Alex, a broody redhead sired by an unknown female who had fallen for his charm and looks. That's the thing about Toreadors, they're all so bloody shallow and vain, oh sure they speak like they have depth but they judge everything and everyone on appearances. Ever see one with a Nosferatu?

Alex gave me an amused look. This Toreador did not consider me a work of art like Isaac but he did consider me an odd sort of innocent and Alex adored the innocents. He was wearing his trademark black, leather trenchcoat, -funny how the Toreadors have no qualms with wearing something an animal died to produce- a mustard shirt, black trousers and black shoes. Unlike Isaac and a certain Frenchman he did not favour suits; in fact I suspect he loathes them.

Ash gave our lovely mogul a disapproving look. "When is she going back to Sebastian?" he demanded.

Isaac shrugged. "Whenever she wants." He smiled at me. Lovely Isaac was not young when he was turned, his hair was a soft grey-brown and he had offending grooves in his face, ah but age and immortality together are a curse but then so are rotten flowers and seaweed if you think about it. His eyes were gold, rather ideal for someone in the greedy movie business I thought.

"One can't go back only forwards," I remarked cheerfully, "unless one moves without sight," I began to walk backwards to demonstrate my point, "and what a fun adventure that could be!" I frowned. "Or dull, things are better seen."

"You're quite mad," Ash commented distastefully. He often made cold remarks about my sanity, it never bothered me, rather I took it as a compliment and loved the boring misery all the more for it.

"She cannot help that, it is part of her nature," Isaac remarked calmly.

"A beautiful, twisted nature it is," Alex added softly. He was giving me an intense look with his cat green eyes. Toreadors, they can stare at just about anything for hours on end without being able to help it, it's part of their nature but yet I'm the one of the crazy clan. Surely nothing is more maddening that staring at the same thing for ages?

"I see the beauty in things," Ash conversed coldly, "but not in her."

Alex smiled a little as my eyes locked with his and I grinned. "Wonderful creature, your insanity is dazzling," he praised me. "It animates you and gives you such an ensnaring glow." Glow?

I looked down at myself and was most disappointed to see no glow. Perhaps I was like the bugs in pure darkness, without the light I too would glow. How pretty, I would be the moon of vampires, pale and bright in the dark.

"I am going to attend my club," Ash announced. He turned from us and exited the room swiftly not waiting for anyone's comment.

Isaac sighed; Ash was his childe, his morbid nature made him feel guilty. There was something I never understood, why should one feel guilty especially when one is a vampire who takes lives for food? When you do things like that the little things really should not bother you and moody Ash was definitely a little thing. A little thing that was taller than me.

"How often do the steel butterflies sing?" I wondered aloud as I began to skip around the room. "And how can you steal a tail from a cat?" I gave Isaac and Alex a serious look. "So many things to ponder, does anyone bother with these things?"

Isaac chuckled softly and Alex's green gaze intensified further. "Even your words are beautiful in a way, such images you conjure," Alex murmured.

"Well time is fleeting, I'm going to slay someone before the red fiery bird comes to burn us," I informed them chirpily. Blood, such a beautiful, morbid need, such a hot desire, a red river of life, hmm listen to me, suddenly so Toreador. I skipped to the door with a giggle.

"Careful," Isaac cautioned. Silly vampire, he doesn't believe that the flame eyed imps protect me but I know better. He isn't always so nice mind, even when we met he was amusingly strict. Isaac does not much like us neonates, such an amusing word that, I adore the big, funny words he uses. Isaac believes respect comes with age and that young ones are to be his lowly servants. I'm an exception of course; those silver winged demons did good work convincing him to accept me.

I continued skipping on, heading for the messy streets of Hollywood. Out to the wonderful cold, smutty darkness where the posers and partiers would be lurking, alcohol and drugs making their luscious blood pound round just that much quicker. It was raining lightly when I exited to the cracked, stained pavements of glittery, fake Hollywood. Time to kill.

I drifted by Hollywood contemplating where to prey, there were diners at Cafe Cavoletti, their blood sweetened with the yummyness they devoured, cheap strippers from the Sin Bin, though I feared diseases from them, delightful money starved guests at the Luckee Star Motel or perhaps easy drunken morsels at the Asp Hole. I doubted Ash would welcome me there though to prey upon his customers.

I drifted towards the Ground 0 Internet Cafe considering a neurotic geek as potential prey but when I paused outside it I knew I could not be bothered with facing the electric boxes of public secrets, the stench of cheap coffee and students with faces more pasty than mine. The blood of those who study hard and party is often weak, they forget to eat far too often, no nutrition means bad blood to me.

I instead turned my multiple attentions towards the convenience store Red Spot and stepped inside. The stoner assistant of more than just ordinary wares but boom sticks too gave me a glazed look. Slater, he was a harmless, amusing thing, most amusing when I cast a light touch of hysteria upon him to cease his spaced look and give laughter to his face. This deed I had done only once, warned by Isaac to spare it on more deserving folk. Does not everyone deserve some humour?

The colourful food packages distracted me briefly before a burning thirst reminded me of my purpose. Blood, beautiful, warm blood; I needed it, as the plants need water so I needed red nectar. There were five customers to choose from, I had assessed that before I had even entered the building- two middle-aged, three in their early twenties. It was only as I moved to the cereal aisle where two dwelled that I realised one by the magazines was watching me. I looked to her discreetly and forked out a tongue ruining secrecy.

She, tanned beauty, called herself Samantha, I, pale skinned madwoman, called her many other things. Her brown eyes gave me a pleading look, begging one of my personalities to remember and reunite with her. Samantha, Sammy, Sam? Who had she been? Three potential names...hmm perhaps we had something in common- multiple identities. Perhaps not, she seemed too sane despite the spell of hallucinations I had cast upon her during our last encounter. Isaac had yet to scold me for that, for he had yet to find out. The curly haired pest was certain she knew me, so certain that she had given up her destination and booked a room in the Luckee Star Motel, determined to dwell in Hollywood near where she had spotted me. So far, it had proved a good idea for her, we had met three times in the space of a month.

Masquerade violation...it was a risk I toyed with by letting her live but I saw the potential of a greater game from which I could derive much pleasure. I crossed my eyes and giggled at her before turning my attention back to the Kine I hoped to feed upon.

"What's up?" one male in his early twenties queried me when I appeared before him with a smile. He looked nervous; I took that as a compliment and looked upwards appropriately.

"Stars and ceiling tiles, what's down? What's left? What's right? So many directions to choose from, why pick just one?" I ranted at him curiously.

His blue eyes filled with further nerves and he took a step back. "Never mind," he muttered, hoping to end the conversation. I considered using some dominating words to force my victim to my side but another caught my attention with his bright red t-shirt with a cartoon, purple octopus on it. I immediately hovered over to him amused and fascinated by the octopus. So many legs, so many things they could do at once!

"Hey?" he made his greeting a puzzled question, strange thing to do but it made me smile widely, I love strangeness. Obviously he was wondering if he knew me.

"Hey," I retorted, mustering my best seductive tone, which had improved a lot over the past month thanks to some Toreadors' teachings, "I couldn't help but notice you. Would it be too forward if I asked you to walk with me?"

Maybe he would have been charmed by my looks and words by himself, maybe not, we would never know because I had chosen to bewitch this messy haired blonde with some vampire magic. The voices had been the ones to suggest that my vampire powers might be best used and it's always good to listen to the voices.

"Sure," he said eagerly with an attractive boyish smile. It was easy to guess that this young man was here to make it in Hollywood with his looks. If there was talent there too I could not tell. I wrapped one hand around a muscular arm and allowed him to escort me back outside to the cool night air.

I could sense Kindred all around, Hollywood had more Kindred pretenders than Kine though no one seemed to realise it. Isaac the jewellery seller, Ash the club owner, Velvet Valour the mistress of sultry dancers, them and many more, all actors and actresses portraying their roles with more talent than any of those upon the silver screen. Let's excuse the fact that Ash had once been upon the silver, I'm sure it was forgettable anyway as so many things are.

I lured my victim to an alleyway knowing better than to go for a public attack. Masquerade violation, masquerade violation, who wants to fuck with the guys in masks? I did not understand it, Camarilla, Anarchs, Sabbat? Too many names, how to toe the line? Where was the line? I looked at the ground hopefully for it but saw only a crushed tin can and cracked pavement.

Down the dark alleyway then, silly little blonde, should have known better but then who can resist the mind tricks the demons help me play? He looked at me with vacant blue eyes; I looked at the purple octopus and giggled. Then I sprang on him, wrapped my limbs around him and sank my fangs into his delicious neck. He stumbled backwards with a groan but remained upright despite my added weight. Blood, blood, blood, messy blood, delicious, warm, sweet and so nourishing.

Everything became clear with the blood, as I drank the voices died down, lost to my ecstasy; I remembered fleetingly a college student called Sarah who took Art class with Samantha. Sarah was paranoid, fixated on the strange dreams she had at night and the voices whose whispers faded with the light of the rising sun. Sarah needed understanding; Sarah needed to hear more, to learn more. Samantha was concerned but thought it the stress of college, she suggested a night out. A night in a busy club full of young adults, their blood pounding, their heads swirling with alcohol and drugs, their bodies grinding in dances driven by lust. Sarah had been unaffected until she had seen him.

I pulled back, the voices returned, Sarah vanished. I released my victim and let him fall to the ground in a dazed but still living heap. I eyed him warily, only just living, oops, taken too much again. My belly felt too full now, yet I licked my lips taking in more, craving more. I eyed him again, may as well finish it. May as well see him again, remember him. Remember who? Oh like a game, ask twenty questions- did he have glasses? Was he tall? Was he blonde?

"You always look most lovely when you are contemplating risk."

I tensed and turned with a ghoulish welcoming grin. A witness, how fun, how exciting!

"You know you shouldn't kill," Alex teased softly, "it only drives you closer to being feral and that my dear is quite ugly."

I giggled even as I nodded. Feral, wild child, one step closer to those lucky Gangrel who had the joy of howling with the wolves. Still to be ugly, could my vanity take it? Pretty little miss that she was, she couldn't stand being ugly. One more glance at the victim, might not make it without a hospital but that would be darling nature's choice. The hunger though, the thirst, the unnatural need that horrified the dear kine so, it was still there, still burning.

Alex placed his hands on my arms and gripped them tight restraining them by my sides. He had moved so quickly I had not even seen him do it, what a clever vampire. "The thirst is a wonderful thing," he murmured, "to see our kind suffer so, to see that agony within, to endure it, to push oneself to ones limits, it's a challenge." Toreadors, and they call me mad. "Can you endure it if I make you?" he asked quietly. "Can you starve so beautifully my lovely Ariadne?"

"Ariadne, what a funny word," I murmured, "but you are funny."

Alex grinned at me with his practiced smile of seduction that so many kine fell for. I merely liked how shiny his teeth were. "You are lost in your own maze aren't you? A tangle of the mind, forever tormented by your own confusing thoughts, such a struggle you nightly face. Which path to take, which voice to listen to. Besides," he looked at me with a glimmer in his vivid green eyes, "you have no name and Ariadne does as well as any other, although you might not have the noble image of a Cretan princess."

"Ah but I have a crown," I murmured gleefully, "when the fairies want to give me one, one of glass, it's so pretty in the moon."

Alex nodded, still looking at me with that weird fondness he bore where Ash would have given me scorn and dearest Isaac that bewildered look of pity and amusement. Yes I amused him, I loved to amuse him, to please the stiff faced seller of treasures, make the baron smile. "I wonder how much one already mad can endure," Alex murmured as he released me at last, "I wonder the limits of a Malkavian."

"Why?" I decided to indulge his prattle.

"There is beauty in pain," he said softly, "a dark sort but it's there, so dark, so vivid and loud and sad and yet so wonderful. People are at their best when vulnerable, the walls fall down then their fake, ugly personas are gone and they are themselves at last when they fear death."

I nodded without understanding; Alex did so often like his deranged tangents, though not as much as me. It was a joy to flit from one topic to another, to verbally dance through discussions and bring new thoughts to life. There were too many things to ponder and so little time. For instance, did the stars pin the sky in place and if they vanished would it fall? Did vampires floss? Had anyone ever called Sebastian Sebby? And the bells that elves played so often in my head, were they made of silver or brass? So much to wonder and yet the night was not so young anymore and still I thirsted. The man, my victim, was almost at death now; he had slipped so deep into unconsciousness he would never come out of it.

Alex moved past me and crouched by the soon to be corpse. "So lovely," he mused, "almost at peace, vulnerable, quiet and still." He looked up at me calmly. "Bespelled by you of course, you can be good at that. Sometimes it's good to see them go quiet, as if asleep, it's poetic how closely sleep and death are tied." When the man crossed over at last from one shady realm to another Alex stood up again, his face twisted into disgust. "So ugly now," he remarked wistfully, "corpses always are. It's not much fun when they depart so quickly to become things of horror and rot." He turned away from the body and looked back to me. "You would be best holding that hunger until tomorrow night, one corpse is suspicious enough and you so rarely limit yourself."

I grinned widely at him, limit myself? Who wanted limits? With limits I could not fly, I could not dance naked through the streets with cats, I could not make pancakes with blood, flour and petals; all these Isaac limits naturally. I loathed limitation, I hated restraint, letting my victims live was always the worst of it. Letting Sarah and him go, that was easy I supposed although the quiet, the silencing of the voices, that odd peace, it was hard to see that pass at times, easy at others when I was lonely for them.

"What will you do?" I queried Alex curiously.

He smiled at me, wide, charming and innocent. "I will go to my home and paint," he remarked, "I will be inspired and I will create."

"Do I inspire?" I questioned.

"Not me," he admitted, "Isaac perhaps. You are so blessedly innocent even in your killings you cannot understand restraint, you're too young and too much the victim of your mad clan. It's not your fault; you're a lamb stained in blood, that's all."

"Baa."

Alex laughed and then he was gone, departed in the blur he could move in so easily. I wanted that speed but my shoes refused to comply, I had heard of winged shoes being fast but when I had tried to stick pigeon feathers to mine Isaac had scolded. Apparently he had not appreciated bird corpses around his office.

I crept back to him, moving through the shadows practising my talent of Obfuscating, I was getting better at it. It was fun to play hide and seek, especially with the students and the police. I passed by the jewellery shop window and admired the treasures inside. Isaac assured me they had not come from pirates but I did not believe him, I knew he had robbed ships and slain men with eye patches and hooks for the pearls, diamonds and gold. Drawing my eye from the trinkets that darling V.V so often admired when she visited, I moved down the alleyway and crept in the side entrance.

Isaac looked at me with a disappointing lack of surprise. There was no sneaking up on him, even if I had done it in a crouch with minimal noise. "Fed then?" he queried calmly.

I nodded with my wide smile. "He might have been a star," I murmured, "though I wonder how people learn to glow and fly, you'll teach me won't you? To be a star? I want to glow and fly."

Isaac gave me that typical bemused smile and shook his head making me scowl. "Most Malkavians annoy me," he admitted, "especially the idiotic neonates but you; your mind is like a work of modern art, a tortured painting of colours, unclear outlines and a collision of shapes. It seems to have no direction, much like you, and yet there is a meaning to it."

"I have direction," I protested, "I have left, right, forwards, backwards," I stepped in those directions to demonstrate my point.

Isaac laughed. "Perhaps I like you because you are a Malkavian," he admitted, "your mind just keeps ticking."

"Tick tock, tick tock, yes I hear that sound sometimes," I mused. Tick tock, tick tock, there was a pendulum swinging in my head but I did not mind, not even when it thunked against my skull.

Isaac approached me, though he stopped when there were still a couple of steps between us. "There will be trouble soon my mad wonder," he told me gravely, "the Anarchs are trying to start an uprising, the Kuei-Jin plot their own takeover, the Sabbat are restless and the Camarilla struggle with it all, here in particular where their representative is that fop of a prince."

I snickered at this, a fop, what a word for Sebastian. "Peace is dull, all those plot lines sound exciting," I enthused.

"Ah so young, so naive," Isaac said with a world weary look in his gold eyes. "I like that though, you lack the stress of the others, maybe Alex is right to think you innocent, in a way you are."

I leaped on him then, springing at him as I had sprung onto my prey but Isaac was ready for it. The first time I had done it he had stumbled and struggled and scolded as he so often did but after time he had grown used it and though he still scolded now and then he still allowed it. He wrapped his arms around me offering support so I did not have to half-strangle him with my arms. I gripped his soft greying hair instead and kissed his supple lips. "So innocent," I purred when I broke from him with a smirk.

Isaac smiled back. "Perhaps not then," he murmured.


	2. Chapter 2

The soft, fading sunlight burned, it's not enough to be a threat but it's enough to hurt. I have risen early again, no doubt one of the voices in my head felt it was time to party. I am tired, but not mad; I understand the voices must get impatient sometimes. Cold hands wrapped around me and pulled me back from the windowsill, back to the shadows, the safe darkness that only my disturbed kind can truly feel at home in.

"Silly neonate," Isaac scorned in my ear, "you've burned your arm."

I looked at my arm and smiled, red patches lingered amongst the white creating a rather pleasing pattern. I had been getting bored of the same old thing, the change seemed well-timed, perhaps the change has the same clock as me, a wonderful silver trinket with spoons for handles. "I like it," I said merrily.

Isaac tutted in his usual stiff fashion, he is fond of me but his businessman side rarely tolerates those of us who are reckless and childish. I think secretly he wants to burn his arms too but his blazer will not allow for it, pity. He has been awake early and to sleep late a lot these past few nights, I considered it might be me but now I wonder if something or someone else plagues him.

"Does disease play with your mind?" I queried as I smiled at him.

Isaac looked puzzled for a moment as he always does with me, poor baron, his mind is so slow sometimes, it needs roller-skates to keep up with mine. "Disease," he murmured, "ah...I think I understand, strange Malkav daughter, the way you have with words, it's most interesting and yet beautiful, you bring an odd joy to this world. Yes, there are things on my mind; it comes with being in a position of power."

Power, primogens, barons, princes, what is the difference? An anarch baron, how did that even fit in with the anarch's beliefs in equality? I did not know, I did not care, in the lady of the sea's sweet domain I had treaded less than carefully and annoyed the men in masks more than once. So many rules, so many fun things forbidden and so many disturbing figures lingering in the shadows with torches, had they really been there or was it just the blackness of my mind that they hunted in? Yet having so many of my own voices to adhere too I could understand the desire to control all the voices, the need to have law for without it was chaos, ah but chaos was colourful and wonderful though destructive, perhaps not a pleasure for the many. Prince, no prince? Cammy or rebel? My head hurt with these thoughts and I pulled a frown.

"Would you be any less than a baron?" I queried teasingly as I slipped out my warm tongue to lick his cheek.

Isaac recoiled as expected and regarded me with scorn; he's really much too stern to take pleasure in such naughty things. I think it's why I stay with him, I like the challenge and I like the Toreadors, they are just as mad as my kind with their odd desperate, controlling passions, they just do not realise it. "Less?" Isaac shook his head. "No, my position is comfortable and necessary; I would not give it up even if it is stressful at times." He pulled that strained expression of his that comes usually only with matters regarding Ash, his dearly depressed. Ash is the only member of the dead I know who actually acts like the dead, there's no life there, only a pained, exaggerated desire for doom and escape. Ash wants his existence ended but he wants it to be dramatic, another chance for fame I suppose. The darling cigarette spawn is sick for that silver screen he abandoned; well we only ever want something when it's lost. I for example never really desired my sanity until it up and left one day, I always expect to find it under a pillow or in a box but so far no luck.

"So, who causes problems for the baron?" I press for information even though too much of it fills the caverns of my head as it is. Sarah, who was Sarah again? Samantha, is it a thing with the letter S? Did our parents belong to some S loving cult and is that how we came to be together? Did destiny pull the spawn of such cults together?

"There are several problems throughout L.A, though the ones in Hollywood have my attention most I feel perhaps some are linked to the larger problems of L.A. I think La Croix or maybe someone else is pulling dangerous strings that could be disastrous for us all and that of course concerns me. For the moment though I will have to focus on the problems of Hollywood, I will need more proof to tie anything to that simpering prince or another if necessary."

"What other?" I mused curiously.

"Strauss perhaps," Isaac said scornfully, "he's more lenient and certainly a lot wiser than La Croix but he's a Camarilla nonetheless and a Tremere as well and who knows what magic secrets they have? Then of course there's Ming Xiao, those Eastern vampires have always been a mystery, they're not the same as us and it's no secret she wants power. Still, it's all just politics really, those high up the chain will always be up to something I suppose."

I wondered who this Ming Xiao might be, I had never heard of this wonderful lady but with such a name she had to be impressive, an eastern vampire? East, west, north, south? Were we so different, like the penguins and polar bears or were some of us just picky enough to force differentiation? "So what troubles plague the starry land then?" I murmured. If Isaac did not want to share the crimes of the leaders that was alright but he was going to have to amuse me with something or I was going to have to find my own fun. Sweet Sebastian had always been displeased when I did that, I imagine it's why he sent me to the starry land, at least I think...hmm why had he sent me this way again? Perhaps there had been a purpose, hmm well I caused some trouble here, I found a zombie, tried to put it on a leash and walk it about town, Isaac had discovered me then, covered it up by saying it was a film stunt, now had Sebastian asked me to do that? Somehow I did not think my bratty jester prince was the type to have someone take a pet zombie for midnight walkies.

Isaac eyed me warily, which made me think he remembered my last attempts to help out in Hollywood, they had involved turning a would be film starlet hysterical causing her to lose her fabulous starring role and overdose on coke, then of course there had been that case of mass hallucinations I may have caused in Cafe Cavoletti, ah such happy memories. "There have been strange disappearances," he murmured, "now in this place disappearances aren't so unusual, but these ones...well they're getting strangely common, there have been ten so far, male and female, aged between seventeen and thirty, so far they have nothing in common and only one showed up."

"Dead? Undead? Fairy possessed? Guided by a leprechaun?" I questioned eagerly.

Isaac shook his head, his frown deep enough to show some wrinkles reminding me that he had not be so young when changed. Poor Isaac, old then, old now, then again being the Peter Pan of vampires might not be so good, sure I had good skin but I would never get the grey streaks in my hair Isaac had, pity because I thought they would rather suit me. "Mad," he mused, "but not your kind of mad, bloodied, beaten, tortured to the brink of death. They never said where they had been, who had taken them, no clues, they just died on the street where they were found."

"By whom? Oh who was the lucky finder? Perhaps with such a skill they might help me find the lamp fairies? Sneaky things, they evade me but not one who can find things so well!" I enthused.

Isaac sighed, clearly regretting telling me anything but that was his naive way, to doubt, he would change his mind when I became the heroine of this Hollywood tale and found the disappeared. "A man called David Hatter, he's a writer, V.V knows him well."

"A writer? Oh and what a lucky one to find such inspiration, I wonder if this hat maker perhaps has a lucky hat for me?"

"Inspiration?" Isaac shook his head sharply. "Oh no, the Kine suspect enough without needing to know one of the disappeared turned up in such a state, we do not need their police interfering with what I heavily suspect is the work of something supernatural. V.V was instructed to bid him stay silent and to sort things out more permanently if there is any hint of a manuscript based on all this. It was unfortunate that a mortal had to find the victim."

"And who was this victim anyway?" I pondered.

"A female in her twenties, she matched up with the profile of missing college student Gabrielle Bring, she worked in a video store part time for money, studied art at college."

"An art student, how very Toreador," I teased.

"Indeed," Isaac commented darkly.

"Well I shall question the hat man; see if he has better information and maybe a tea party too, oh that would be fun!"

"I can't imagine he held anything back from V.V," Isaac said pointedly, "but I suppose with that sixth sense you Malkavians have maybe you will see something the rest of us can't, even if you don't realise it."

I gave him a wide smile before grasping him with both arms and snuggling my head hard against his chest. He gave an exasperated groan but I knew he loved it really; he would not keep me around if it were different. I released him quickly and left the room wordlessly, hurrying up to the front door as the sun went down.

I walked to that boiling, destructive club Vesuvius where men partied and strippers cried like it was the end of days. Classier than the Sin Bin with a better clientele made the place seem almost tolerable but unlike the Sin Bin it was very much in denial about its purpose. These women called themselves exotic dancers and were as deluded and as much in denial as their mistress Velvet Velour, V.V to friends.

"Greetings Velvet," I purred as I strode up to the busty redhead lingering not far from the main bar on the ground floor. She and I were not friends, sadly she thought I was exploiting Isaac, I knew though that once she had danced for the baron and that obsessive Toreador mind of hers pined for him still. Isaac saw V.V as a daughter and Ash for a son, such a mad collection of family and yet I was the crazy one. All of them vain, obsessive, passionate and tangled up in remorse and love, it was such a strange tangle even to my many webbed mind.

Velvet Velour was a strange one even to me; she reeked of confidence and yet inside there was a sense of fear and denial, like she had some child locked up in her mind. Nothing abnormal I suppose since I have at least four people locked up in mind but still it did make her rather baffling.

"What do you want mad Malkav child?" she queried in that husky voice of hers that makes so many people and vampires cave to her every command. Velvet has a wonderful knack for persuasion that I envied in those moments when I failed to persuade Isaac that leaving out carrots for the dust bunnies was a good idea.

"A hatter, a hare and a dormouse," I retorted brightly, "so we can all have a tea party. I hear you know the hatter."

Velvet's delicious clear grey eyes widened slightly and she glanced about the busy room before nodding back to the neon pink sign that read VIP ROOM with a finger below it pointing towards the stairs lit up in lime green. "That way," she said reluctantly before turning and leading the way up.

I followed, skipping up each step as I did, taking in a passing fanged dancer with a smirk that she did not seem to appreciate. "I thought about being a dancer," I mused when we entered her humble dancing quarters, "but the elves were against it."

"Elves, yes," she dismissed in a murmur.

I frowned, Velvet never appreciated my stories, it was almost like she didn't believe them but I knew she had to, after all there were elves living right here, hiding in the fake magma pools she had downstairs, besides she was a part of the S cult too, so she had to believe. Susan, it was a name that echoed dimly through me every time I visited Velvet, I had mentioned it once and she had become upset and that denial her child captive possessed was suddenly out. The mentioning of Susan had not helped her attitude towards me alas.

She leaned against a desk, her waist pressed up against the edge and her palms resting on either side of her as she regarded me coldly. It might have seemed more ferocious if she had not been clad in a barely there black lace negligee with thin black straps and red silk trim, a red thong with an adorable matching choker, transparent black stockings and towering black heels, the kind that always made me wobble and wonder if giants found it just as difficult to walk.

"Why do you want David Hatter?" she demanded.

"He's a lucky finder," I said with a smile, "one who brushes with death, though I can't imagine that's a fair meeting since Death has a scythe that can probably slice a brush pretty easily," I murmured as I considered how unfair it was always that people only ever had a brush when they acquainted with Death.

Velvet frowned, she never appreciated my ponderings. "I don't know why Isaac bothers with you," she remarked in disgust, "if you weren't a Malkavian I would think you were a Tremere who had used a spell on him."

"A spell? Hmm I don't think I've had to spell for him," I said sincerely as I tried to remember if Isaac had asked for my spelling talents.

"Idiotic annoyance," she hissed, showing a flash of anger that only seemed reserved for me. With everyone else Velvet was as nice of pie, although I've never considered pie nice, I preferred cake personally, now blood is all there is but it is all I desire, at least when the voices are quiet.

"Where is the hat maker?" I pried. "Isaac is troubled with the merry corpses."

"Hmm," she pursued her plump red lips together as she seemed to consider the matter at last. "So Isaac sent you then as opposed to this being one of your random fancies?"

I nodded. "The Hatter might have information."

"He told me everything he knew about that sad incident," she replied with a sorrowful look on her face. "Poor girl, an aspiring art student they said, such a waste of talent. David is already scarred over the matter, you shouldn't upset him more."

"I won't," I assured, "I'm not the upsetting kind; we'll have a nice, fun tea party, promise. I've a gift for getting information Susan."

She visibly bristled at the name and frowned. "I told you not to say that name," she hissed hatefully.

I shrugged. "Names with the letter S are suspicious," I admitted, "but they have some meaning." Some hidden truth that almost came to me when I fed, a reality just one bite away.

"Alright you've made your point, maybe that crazy insight of yours will drag out some clue we Toreadors are too sane to find," she snapped. "He's a hotel manager at the Luckee Star motel."

"Ah so the source of his luck is a motel!" I marvelled. "Perhaps if I lick the walls then I will be a lucky finder too!"

"Perhaps," Velvet repeated dryly. "Look DO NOT harm him, he's an innocent soul," her expression softened slightly, "and he's already troubled by what he saw."

"I shan't," I vowed, holding up two fingers to my chest.

"You Malkavians are too fond of spreading your insanity," she said darkly, "DO NOT be doing it to him.

"To the motel of luck then!" I retorted enthusiastically before turning from her and skipping back down those delightfully lit up steps. I ignored the curious and occasionally lustful stares I received as I hurried out of Velvet's molten den, eager to reach this hotel. I wondered if perhaps it was at the end of a rainbow with leprechauns for guests, perhaps that was how it had its luck.

It stood a dirty block of brown buildings with long, dirty, rectangular windows divided up into black outlined square panes. The only clue to its luck was a fortuitous star that glowed from the side of it with the pink name above it in an arch. Ah so a wishing star had crashed into the building and given it luck then, that made sense.

I stepped through the entrance and found a lone man standing by the desk, his attention on some pages sitting before him. There was not much to the desk, it had a single black phone, a coffee machine with just one paper cup beside it and two closed black files. There was no computer, no sense of this being a modern motel.

The man looked up at me, he was middle aged, his dark hair streaked with grey, wrinkles marring his plain face and dragging down his bright brown eyes. It was only when I looked to his eyes that I saw he was not another dull dud of Hollywood, there was a passion still blazing in there, a lively flames sparkling around his pupils, lighting up his irises. This man, despite the trauma he had witnessed, had not yet been claimed and ruined by the bleak society he lived in.

"Sorry I've no vacancies," he said as he looked at me. Now why did I find that hard to believe? This place surely could not be hot for business unless of course people came for the luck, yes of course that would make sense.

"I've none either," I retorted brightly. "Are you the hat lover?"

"Hat lover?" He gave me that look, that look being one I was long accustomed to, vampires and kine all seemed to give me that look more often than not. "Well...I'm David Hatter if that's what you're asking."

I grinned and turned on my crazier persuasive side. Some vampires used charm, some used forcefulness but I preferred those words that came to my mind bright and tinged with green, the sort that only the truly insane could come up with. "You saw something hat man, something dark, bloody and terrible, something you want to repress," I spoke to him in a low, deep voice I rarely used and imagined belong to my third personality or was it my fourth? "I need the details, all of them, tell me, see it now as it was and tell me."

He shuddered as he attempted to repress those memories despite my words and his eyes widened in fear but then he gave in, his weak kine mind folding to my several vampiric ones. "She was young," he whispered as he turned pale and gaunt, "not more than twenty, so young, the blood was everywhere, I mean I actually thought it was paint there was so much of it. I thought it was a prank you know?" he babbled to himself rather than me. "It was so bizarre, she was naked, lying in the middle of the street, things like that don't just happen, people don't just show up in that state and...and die!" He froze up, caught in the memory, desperate to reject it.

"Tell me hat maker," I hissed, "tell me what this woman looked like, all the details now."

"She had wounds all over her, when she moved I had to go for a closer look, see if I could help. I knew it was all real then, I could see her bones poking out, her chest, her knees, it was horrible, just these hard, white bits, they didn't look right. You could see her intestines showing a little too, her flesh had ripped, it was like looking through ripped curtains or something, it just wasn't normal. It was like...I don't know, it was like someone had sliced her up good with a nice, cut her in random places just for the hell of it."

"A knife hatter? Not claws?"

He shook his head. "No they weren't like that, at least I don't think, no animal would do it, would they? I don't think so." He shook his head again. "But then what human could?" He swallowed hard, the revulsion clear on his face. "I remember a mark on her waist, oh God yeah, I'd forgotten that for a while, put it out of my head, it was just too damn weird."

"What was it?"

"A rose, someone had carved into her, I don't know how, it was small and so detailed, it was just sick really the time they must have spent marking that into her."

"I see."

David shook his head in a mad protest, swallowed hard again and then blinked twice before staring blankly at me; he had rejected any further memories. "Look I...why do you want to know all that?" he demanded, unnerved and uneasy.

I grinned at him and giggled, suddenly he was giggling to. Done with him, I escaped out of his lucky dwelling and began prancing down the streets of Hollywood. I would return to Isaac soon with this news but first I had to feed, that delicious hunger was upon me again.

I wandered for close to an hour before I came across a familiar spot; there in the neon lights all too common to Hollywood was spelled in bold red- Asp Hole. Isaac's apology gift to Ash for turning him. Ash had overdosed on heroin and Isaac, too attached to let him die so young as so many others had, had turned him and Ash eternally resented him. Silly firespawn would have preferred to go young, handsome and famous than fade into a half life in obscurity, humiliated as everyone thought he had been stupid enough to spurn Hollywood at his peak, shunning fame for the humble life of club owner.

I entered just because I knew it would annoy him. Inside was a club sombre and classy, a mixture of the modern and the day of the popular blues it was purple everywhere, wonderful, dark purple walls, carpet and lights, showing off Ash's eternally grim mood without going for the typical blue. The walls were decorated with painted black snakes that I knew came to life when they were stroked right and every table had purple and white chairs and a candle flickering in the centre. It was packed as usual, busy with the rich clientele of Hollywood, the children of rich businessmen, young men and women enhanced with surgery, dye and make-up who hoped to make it big in Hollywood off their parents' money without a scrap of talent between them. These people were a comfort to Ash because they were more depressed and pathetic than him I supposed, hard as that was to believe.

I spotted Ash up on the top floor, which was made of metal so you could hear you feet bang all the louder as you danced, he loved to brood up there, it gave him a good lookout spot of the degenerates clustered round the bar below.

I did not care to talk him yet, the bodies pulsing around me filled my own with longing, I could smell the salty sweat, taste it even, their despair called out to me, begging me to come and make it better. Their hearts were beating so fast, working overtime to keep up with the drinking and dancing and above all those wonderful nerves as they denied the truth of their existence, forced up a feigned confidence and tried to seek a partner to console them in their loneliness. I would be that partner for someone, oh yes; I would take them out into the soft dark, lull them away from their cold realities and send them into a more peaceful place.

"Tut, tut," a familiar voice scorned in my ear. I turned and saw Alex looking at me even as he cradled the chin of a gorgeous blonde. She looked at him with genuine lust, not yet under any vampire powers her attraction to him was sincere. "Becky," he purred as his sharp, green gaze flickered to her. "This is my beautiful friend Ariadne." He gestured to me.

The blonde regarded me coldly, just like in the animal world so too do humans and vampires perceive one another as a threat, a challenge to their position of dominion. "Hi," she greeted frostily.

Alex let out a chuckle. "Becky," he murmured, "be nice, Ariadne needs company, she is afraid to go outside in the dark alone, she's scared, keep her company, please, do this for me." It did not take a genius to tell Alex was using his own undead gifts on the woman but genius Becky was not and she willing extended a hand to me as she looked to me with vacant eyes.

I accepted her hand, taking her as the gift she was, and led her outside a side door to an alleyway where a couple of smokers loitered. "Come little Becky," I said mockingly, guiding further down the alleyway. Down, down, into the darkness, down to solitude, must not break that damned Masquerade. So thirsty though, starving, her heart pumping all that precious blood, just one bite to stave off the hunger, one little nip, no one would notice that. My vision went red, the hunger exploded within me and I pounced tearing her throat apart with a snarl. That delicious hot vintage that was stronger and sweeter than any wine flooded through my mouth and I drank it quickly, savouring every drop.

There were screams and yells but I paid no attention.

"You damn bitch!"

Someone tore me off, away from the blood, away from that elixir I so desperately needed. I turned with a snarl, scratched out angrily at the intruder. My nails met flesh and I was tossed backwards with an angry yell.

"Bitch! I'll tell him, I'll tell the lot of them and you'll be executed hopefully!"

"Calm down Ash." Hands upon me, someone shaking me. "Well you may as well finish her now, she's fading fast." Someone pressed me back to that blood, its scent filled my nostrils, burning through them and calling back the hunger and I immediately plunged my face down, opening my mouth to suck the nectar in. Sarah, there she was again, an image on the edge of my mind, a silhouette staring at me, calling me back, back to them, back to that night, back to the past.


	3. Chapter 3

A girl. A girl with long brunette locks and green eyes looking confused and scared, staring at me for answers. I did have answers but not for her. At least I did not think so... A club, yes in a club, lots of loud, distracting music, Samantha dancing with the girl... Then him, the redhead, I couldn't quite see, there in the club staring at the girl, staring at me but I couldn't make him out.

"We've already got the hunters breathing down our necks without her pulling some stunt like that!"

Ah the phoenix's beautiful whining voice.

"It wasn't her fault she frenzied," that was Alex, almost sympathetic and a little mocking if I wasn't mistaken. Hmm, frenzied, what a fun word, had I really done it? Yes, I thought so, I remembered the woman in the street, well she had been in rude in the Asp Hole and the streets had seemed awfully dull, who could blame me for wanting to brighten them up a little with a splash of red here and there?

"It was her fault," Ash snarled, "it's always the fault of the vampire."

"According to whom?" Alex was going fishing, tying a nice little golden Oscar to a rod and waving it in front of darling Ash's face waiting for him to take the bait. I had never been fishing; I preferred other kinds of hunting.

"Everyone," Ash snapped, not willing to mention the men in masks. Hmm, Isaac must be nearby then, it would explain firespawn's restraint.

I opened my eyes at last, banishing Sarah from at least one of my minds and welcoming Isaac's domain into my vision. Isaac was standing in front, a few feet away, looking at me with some displeasure. "Did you not like my redecorating?" I queried calmly.

"Redecorating?" Ash spat out from somewhere at my feet. "You need staked," he snarled, "staked and beheaded. If the Camarilla finds out how brazen you are-"

"Enough Ash," Isaac interrupted calmly but firmly. "Those control freaks Downtown won't be finding out anything."

Freaks? I liked freaks, in fact at times I loved them, perhaps because they seemed to love me too at times, at least when they didn't have sharp, pointy things to stab me with, then the love was lost. I missed Downtown, those darling rebels who always seemed to shout at me and fondly called me playful names like bitch, Cammy whore, slave and LaCroix's dog, it was a fun game we played, I went in singing LaCroix's praises and they tried to see how many names they could call me in five minutes. Once I covered the front of their club with posters saying 'Vote LaCroix' as part of the game, and they responded by setting a truck on fire outside the Ventrue Tower. See all in fun! I had to wonder if they missed me too.

"Poor lost Ariadne," Alex purred from behind my head, "even your own mind is a maze."

I laid my head down and rolled my eyes back to see him, he looked well upside down. The world would be a more interesting place if half the people moved about upside down, and we all had shoes made out of cheese and gophers for pets. Yes, cheese shoes, nice and soft on the feet but edible too, a perfect combination.

"Are you seriously going to use her madness as an excuse for this shit?" Ash demanded.

I sat up and grinned at him. "Naughty, naughty, no bad language at play time!" I scolded him.

"Play time?" He gave me that special look of disgust he reserved just for me. "You might be completely crazy but that doesn't excuse your lack of discipline! Your careless actions are going to get us all in trouble."

"I thought you wanted a dramatic death," I commented sincerely.

"What?" Isaac spoke up in surprise.

Ash glowered at me before folding his arms and glowering at Isaac, meeting his curious, golden gaze unflinchingly. "Don't be concerned," he said sardonically, "you have done enough to me without interfering further."

"Ash," Isaac looked hurt, it was strange seeing the rough, tough media mogul wear such an expression, it showed a weakness in him, a vulnerability one might exploit. Did people really wear expressions? Could one have a wardrobe of them and pick them out at random, holding them up to match shoes and ties? I wanted a wardrobe of expressions or at least a drawer!

"You took it all away from me," Ash snapped at him angrily, "did it not occur to you that maybe I would have preferred death to this humiliating half-life? Did you not think that maybe I would rather be mourned by my fans than laughed at?"

"Because they wouldn't have laughed at you overdosing in your twenties and ending your career at its height for some heroin," Alex commented dryly.

Ash spared him a glower of hate. When Ash showed emotion he did it well, I wondered if it was all part of his actor's skills or if inside he was still a stroppy teenager who could do some Oscar winning performances to guilt daddy Isaac into an allowance, either way it was good acting.

"I didn't want to see you gone before your time," Isaac said softly showing some of that infamous Toreador emotion.

"Well you did, we both got front row seats for that thanks to you," Ash snapped back sardonically.

"Oh did you have popcorn?" I asked curiously as I sat up to look at them both properly.

Ash spared me another one of 'those looks' but words seemed to fail him and he turned back to Isaac. Obviously the dead phoenix needed to eat some more dictionaries, the pages go quite well soaked in blood you know, although the last pages I ate just gave me a sore stomach.

Isaac sighed. "I shouldn't have had that movie with you in it, it was too much, it changed you."

"For the better!" Ash snapped. "But you couldn't handle that, couldn't handle that I was a somebody, that I had other people than you to talk to!"

"Was a somebody? Are you nobody now?" I queried as I gave him a puzzled look.

"I may as well be!" he snapped as he threw his hands up in the air dramatically. He dropped them and then gave his own sigh. It's silly hearing vampires sigh, after all we don't breathe but the Toreadors cling to humans and their humanity so much that they still express human gestures that like that, often without realising it, then you have the Ventrue who just do it to be patronising dicks.

Ah my Ventrue prince, did he miss me? I had promised to bring him back a crown; yes I remembered that, he had laughed at that, but he had not laughed when I had given him a purple paper one. There had been scorns over certain lax killings but he had still seemed impressed with me, I was useful to him, my mind had an insight he craved though he would never admit it. I knew things others could not, perhaps because with extra minds I had extra storage space too.

"Forget it," he said gloomily, reverting back into the emo, monotone Ash we had all come to love and mock, or maybe just mock. Yes, the tuxedo wearing cigarette spawn was so easy to tease. I wondered if beneath that handsome, blank face of his there was someone smiling, probably it was just another asshole with a scowl.

"Ash I did not wish to damn you," Isaac protested, "I just could not see such talent wasted, I acted on impulse, I thought without the acting you would be the Ash I had known before Negative Zero, the talented, ambitious man, not the money obsessed drug addict."

Ash spared him another cold look. "I was the most talented actor on the street, I would have died famous, now I'm nothing, Negative Zero is forgotten, and Ash Rivers is a washout club owner but that's the way it is, and I no longer care."

"Clearly," Alex taunted dryly.

Ash turned for the door, pausing when he reached it, probably for dramatic effect, guy just couldn't let the prickly woods go. "The Malkavian needs to go," he said firmly. I looked around the room in puzzlement trying to spy this Malkavian he mentioned. "She is a liability Isaac and she will ruin us all, including you." He opened the door and left, I wondered if it was wrong to hope that he might slip on a banana peel and land front side on a stake. Was that even possible? Poor dead phoenix.

Isaac frowned at the door before turning what I thought might be a look of disapproval on me. Disapproval? What had I done? I gave him my best smile of innocence and for some reason that seemed to make him angrier. I wondered if another aspect of being Toreador was mood swings. Did these moods of ours enjoy riding on swings, it sounded like it should be fun so why did some of them jump off the swing angry or sad? Did another mood push them, was it anxious or eagerness? I grinned; I liked the idea of a play park for my moods. I considered that concern and guilt must be too occupied with the roundabout to be bothered with reacting to Isaac's look.

"You should feed more regularly," Isaac scorned, "attacking people in public draws too much attention to us and with hunters around we really cannot afford that. As for frenzying, that's dangerous too, the more you frenzy the closer you get to your animal side and being like those crazy Gangrel in the Sabbat."

"Sorry," I said, thinking it sounded like the appropriate response. I remembered the frenzying, the loss of control, the anger, the overpowering hunger, the wild, hurried attack and all that delicious blood. I had enjoyed it in a fashion, that brutal side was entertaining and strong and I did not mind the lack of control, after all even when I did not frenzy there was always some other personality trying to take over.

"When you thirst you quench it in private," Isaac instructed, "down an alleyway is fine so long as there are no witnesses and you should keep it clean and make it quick, if you are wild and messy like that there will be a chance for your victim to scream and worse, you will leave evidence."

I nodded, feigning the attentive student, wishing for a graduate hat to wear to suit the setting and because I liked those pointy hats, their tassels looked like fun to play with. The thirst was still there, a dry patch lingering at the back of my throat, an itch, subtle now but soon to be an annoyance, a growth that would not stop. I had spilled too much of the woman's blood, I should have drank more of it. Sarah wanted to come back, she wanted answers, she wanted to torment me.

Isaac shook his head. "Right," he said calmly, "now that, that has been sorted and I can trust no more slipups, what did you learn from David Hatter?"

Eyes boring into me, green eyes, blue eyes? Sarah's eyes? The thirst was growing, it was an ache now, a deep desire, a longing greater than a human's ache for sex or growl for food, I needed nutrition, I needed life to stave off death, I needed that carmine elixir. Oh what beautiful monsters we were, taking life to extend our deaths, what a rich irony.

"Isaac," Alex purred from behind me, "she's thirsting again, can you not feel it? She did not drink enough when she frenzied."

Isaac frowned again and his gold eyes studied me hard. I wondered if he had melted sovereigns and painted his irises with them to get that colour. "I feel it," he admitted. "Go and feed then Ariadne, but do not frenzy."

I reached for him, grasping his right arm in both my hands, lowering my left hand to fit into his larger calloused hand. "Come with me," I begged, "come on, I'll show you where the dwarves hide, and we could play hopscotch and throw eggs at Ash's place!"

Alex chuckled whilst Isaac looked like he was trying to decide if I was joking or not. I was not, the dwarves lived at the front of the graveyard behind a large building, scuttling around the hobos wanting to steal their toes and I thought given that he was long limbed that Isaac might be good at hopscotch, and of course vandalising Ash's place was always fun.

"I'll take her," Alex offered.

"No fair," I protested as I looked up at Isaac, "I want you to come, you're good at throwing, you will be able to hit the windows on the second floor of the Asp Hole."

Alex's hands slid over my shoulders and he tugged me gently from Isaac. "I don't think Isaac wants to upset Ash, Ariadne," he said softly in my ear. "Come now, before the thirst grows dangerous again, you can't frenzy."

The thirst, the mention of it sending a burning, dizzying desire for blood through me. My vision went red and I let out a feral growl, I needed to quench that burning now, I needed to taste death in my fangs, to feel life drain under my hands.

"Come," Alex whispered as he guided me from Isaac's domain and back out into the night of the starry streets. So many stars lingering in the clubs and bars but not a planet or moon among them, how disappointing.

Alex worked quickly, he used his charm to lure an experimental patron of Vesuvius and her shy companion outside and down behind the large, towering mausoleum that stood in front of the graveyard entrance. I wondered only briefly if Velvet would be annoyed to find out that Alex had taken two her customers away, before I sank my fangs into the shy blonde. I drank and drank, ever thirsty for more of her sweet, hot blood until Alex started to pull me off.

"You can't kill," he murmured in my ear as he pulled my face from her neck and eased me back. At first I struggled, lashing out at him with my arms and legs as I keened like an animal for more of the delicious life giving liquid but then the red flashes before my eyes mixed with images of Sarah began to fade and I went still. "The more you kill the closer you become to being like them," Alex muttered, "monstrous Sabbat, without humanity, it's an ugly thing. Humanity is so beautiful you know, so fragile." He held me against him but I realised his eyes were on our entranced victims. "They are pretty when they hurt," he said softly, "their vulnerability holds its own rare sort of beauty."

Toreadors, always rambling about poetic and artistic nonsense. "Can we egg Ash's club now?" I queried curiously. There was something nagging in the back of one my minds, the image of a sweet but deadly rose but I could not remember the importance of it, memories of Sarah and thoughts of annoying Ash just seemed too important right now.

Alex grinned and shook his head. "That wouldn't be my type of fun." He released me at last, probably satisfied that I wasn't going to kill this time.

I frowned; unsatisfied that no one would help me egg the stuffy Toreador's club. "Well what does the poet want to do then?" I queried curiously.

"The poet wants to go to the graveyard because he heard an interesting rumour about it."

I looked at Alex incredulously, how un-Toreador like to want to go somewhere so filthy. Then again, the graveyard was old; it had some interesting architecture I believed, although I had never visited. I considered that maybe this Toreador just wanted to appreciate the beauty of the marble mausoleums. "What rumours do the dead whisper of?" I queried.

Alex's smirk widened. "You really must have some sharp insight," he commented, "knowing that it's the dead who speak."

I blinked and looked at him in puzzlement, what had I said?

"Come on." Alex led the way towards not the towering iron gates but a hole in the wall, near which some dazed hobos stood clustered around a burning can. "It's not open at night," he murmured as he crouched low to fit through the hole in the wall. "I hate going through here though, it's so filthy." Ah so Alex still was a Toreador at heart then even if he did think venturing into a graveyard was a night out. I followed after him out of boredom and found myself in the dull graveyard of Hollywood, so many celebrities and yet not a mourner, shows fame doesn't buy you love. Personally I preferred just taking hearts, much easier, and they are squishy, extra fun. Of course Isaac, as usual, disapproves of that; he disapproves of so much, stuffy Toreador.

There were two hills to the graveyard, a cluster of tombstones, many tilted with age and wear, a few sparse, spread out trees, two mausoleums and down the first hill was one lone hut with a single lamp hanging outside it. A moan called through the air and looked around in puzzlement for the source, it was not the wind. "Who's there?" I queried excitedly as I followed Alex down the hill. "Come out, come out." Another moan wailed through the air and I thought I spied some dirt shifting near a tombstone out of the corner of my eye. I wanted to investigate, to claw at the dirt and whine curiously.

"Come on," Alex called, obviously sensing my intentions somehow. I had to wonder how; did he have some special insight?

I gave my own moan of disappointment as my eyes roved about the graveyard looking for any other suspiciously shifting dirt. Was it possible that dirt itself was alive? Ah perhaps a pet rock come to life, I had told Isaac my pet rock would move if it was fed, perhaps it needed to eat dirt, yes that could be the key. I spotted another shifting of the dirt and raced towards it. I paused over it excitedly and began to kick the soft, brown grains back with my foot.

"Stop that!" Alex scolded as his arms wrapped around me and he forcefully pulled me back. Damn Toreadors and their unnatural speed!

"But the dirt's alive!" I tried to explain. "I want to play with it!"

"Not now," Alex scolded. "Look you go see if you can find something to play with in the hut," he suggested as he released me and pushed towards the unobtrusive building. "I've got something to look at anyway, something boring, it wouldn't amuse you."

I turned back to him, folded my arms and frowned. "You're going to find something fun to do and keep it from me," I accused.

He gave one of his charming smiles and shook his head innocently. "No, I wouldn't do that to you. I've just got some...graves to check out, old film stars, Isaac was interested. It would bore you, it bores me, but it must be done. You at least can find some fun." He pointed behind me with a pale hand to the hut. "Go on, don't you want to know what's in there?"

I turned my head slightly, one of me did not want to be fooled but the other was damn curious now. Maybe this was where the elves hid out, sneaky bastards, maybe this was where they hid the shoes they stole, ah perhaps I could get my cowboy boots returned! Isaac claimed to have loathed my cowgirl outfit but I knew really he liked it, when the boots and my adorable black hat had disappeared I was forced to change it though. Alas, as comfortable as the police costume was it just wasn't the same, even Isaac had to agree that perhaps the cowgirl outfit should have stayed. In his own words he had not thought things could get worse but he was wrong. Bless, so hard for the Baron to admit when he's wrong. Although, I suspect he enjoys the handcuffs just as much as I do.

I headed over to the hut, certain that my boots and a treasure trove of other footwear lurked within. Rather than knock and give the pointy eared thieves warning, I just opened the door and walked in. "Well this isn't Narnia," I murmured when I was greeted with the barrel of a shotgun.

The man lowered it a little and gave me a curious look with his pale green eyes. "No this isn't Narnia," he murmured in a deep, husky voice, "next time you should knock; I damn near blew your head off."

"Well I've always wondered if it would grow back," I admitted, "it could have been a good time to find out."

He lowered his gun completely at last and shook his head. "Nope a headshot is the best way to kill the undead, even your kind."

"My kind?" I feigned innocence and batted my eyes. Do bats bat their eyes too? Or is that little tiny bats flap in your eyelids when you bat your eyes? I batted them slowly in an attempt to catch the bats sneaking out but try as I might I just couldn't spot the shifty creatures.

"Your kind," the man answered flatly, "the bloodsuckers, I know your kind."

I sighed, why did I always seem to fail at pretending to be normal? I fixed my black rimmed, blue hat and smiled, best not to be a sore loser it just hurt too much. "So what other undead is there?" I queried curiously. "That moans in the night."

"Zombies," he answered calmly.

"How intriguing."

He shrugged. "I'm Romero by the way, the caretaker here; I keep the people out and the zombies in."

"How unfair," I pouted. "They just want to party like everyone else."

He cracked a tight smile, half-amused by me at least. "I'm not sure," he remarked, "it started about a month or so ago, the dead just decided to get up and wander the streets, some of them anyway, no one knows why. What they do know though is that zombies wandering Hollywood is a bad situation, and that's where I come in, I get to shoot zombies and guarantee my blood and no one gets torn apart by monsters they mistake for really good actors."

I giggled at that. "No one would make that mistake, there are no good actors here," I jested.

He laughed and then sat his gun beside the lone couch in the hut before flopping down onto the couch. There wasn't much to the hut, two rooms- a small bathroom and a living room with a couch, a cheap t.v, a coffee table and a stand with a microwave and a coffee machine on it, with three cupboards about it.

"So you're a ghoul," I realised. Of the humans only ghouls get to know about vampires and live and only ghouls get the blood hunger. "A ghoul and a zombie shooter how fun!"

"It can be," he admitted, "I get to shoot things for a living but it gets lonely."

"Can't leave?"

He looked up at me and shook his head. "Not really, I go wandering, then so do the zombies."

I frowned. "One of my mind's is trapped in a box, it knows how you feel," I sympathised.

He gave that odd look some humans did when they chatted with me. "Riight...you're a strange one but it's nice to have company even if it is strange." He smirked. "Especially when the company is as striking as you, I have to say I like your outfit choice, it's interesting."

I grinned, cheered up by that, though it was not enough to make me forget my lost boots and hat. "Thank-you, I had a better one but the elves took it."

"Elves? Are you smoking something because if you are I wouldn't mind a taste? It might make things a little more interesting."

"Aren't I interesting enough?"

He regarded me carefully, looking me up and down, taking in my form and rating something in his head, most likely my danger level. "You are," he admitted, "but surely you have better things to do than hang out with the caretaker."

"Well...I did have plans to egg the Asp Hole but they were thwarted."

Romero burst out laughing at that, he doubled over and laughed hard, appreciating my plans more than Isaac or Alex had. "Egg the Asp Hole?" he queried between snickers. "Oh dear, Ash wouldn't like that. Say, if you don't have any better plans than that could you do me a favour then?"

I clapped my hands eagerly and jumped up and down, at last something to do! "What? What?" I queried anxiously.

"Well sometimes a man has an itch putting bullet holes in a zombie just can't fix, you know..." He seemed to grow a little embarrassed. "If you could mind the joint for five minutes, stop any zombies from getting out?"

I studied him this time as I contemplated a response. He was an average looking guy somewhere in his thirties with dark hair that was gelled back on top and shaved on both sides. He was fair skinned, muscular and toned, probably from fighting zombies, with a tacky black, silk shirt and dirty black trousers. "I'm not allowed to play with zombies anymore," I confessed. After I took one for a walk Isaac had forbidden further contact with them, he's all for zombie cruelty the fascist.

"Oh." Romero looked disheartened at that. "Well..."

"Maybe I could help in a different way," I offered brightly.

He looked at me with renewed interest, his pale green eyes sparking with a certain hope. "What's that then?"

"You and I could be one for a while," I suggested. Seemed ideal enough, I was bored, I didn't want to shoot zombies and Romero was deprived.

"Really?" he queried in shock as he jumped up from the couch. "Er...I mean really?" He attempted to compose himself as he repeated his one worded question with less surprise and more appreciation.

I tossed my cap onto the couch and tugged my brown tresses free from their ponytail, one of my darling personas said I looked best with my hair free, or maybe it was my hair itself saying that, loathing the feeling of imprisonment. Hmmm...rebellious hair eh? "Let's go crypt keeper," I urged quietly as I began to strip. What was sex to a vampire after all? We could appreciate physical beauty, the softness of lips and the supple feel of flesh beneath our fingers but the pleasure was nothing compared to that of blood. Sex was meaningless to all of us now, we did it out of boredom, to invoke memories, to seduce, to control, but we did not do it for pleasure, only blood brought pleasure.

Romero stripped quickly, anxious and perhaps a little afraid that I was a dream soon to evaporate. Now that would fun, turning into air, yes I liked that idea, I could become a million particles, I would be everywhere, all seeing, all knowing. Although, didn't I have enough parts of me as it was? Perhaps best not to become a million pieces then. I let the caretaker take control; it was his needs that needed satisfying after all. There was no grace or affection to it; it was rough, hard and loud.

He groaned and moaned as all humans seem to, drowning out the low keens from outside but he was not quite loud enough to block out the imposing knock of his wooden door.

"Shit!" he exclaimed angrily.

The door open and Alex looked in curiously. "Oh dear," he murmured disapprovingly as I beamed up at him from the floor where I was positioned beneath Romero.

"You did say to see if I could find something to play with in here," I reminded him, "and I did."


	4. Chapter 4

Isaac was furious but I was not sure why. I had returned to slumber by the baron's side for the dawn and when I had stepped close to him he had seemed to sniff me and recoil. Now he stood, back against the wall, as distant from me as he could be, looking at me with fury in his golden eyes. "How could you? You've never even met him before! Does it mean nothing to you?" He groaned and let out a weak, mocking laugh. "You're a Malkavian of course, you probably don't even understand, they all warned me..."

"I know I'm the crazy one but you're not making sense even to me," I said gently.

His gaze grew sharp and somehow angrier as he glowered at me. "You stink of my ghoul," he snapped. Ah so he was sensitive to smells.

"Don't you like the odour?" I queried innocently.

"Don't I..." He paused, seeming to splutter with disbelief. "Ignorant neonate!" he snapped. That word, that horrid word he reserved for all newcomers except for me until now. He seemed to compose himself, though a thin lipped frown remained on his face. "You need to go," he said stiffly, "you've angered Ash, and I don't know what you did to David Hatter but you've made V.V furious and now..." He sighed. "Well it doesn't matter. I should not have pandered to you; you're that baby faced prince's toy, go back to him."

"But I like it here," I whined with a scowl. "Why are you so upset? I didn't do anything to David Hatter, just helped him find some humour to get over his trauma, a little hysterics, that's all and Ash is happy when he's angry or depressed, and what's a little sex? Romero said he wasn't getting out much, I felt sorry for him, it's bad for humans to be deprived of certain things."

"Things?" Isaac growled. "A little sex? In Hollywood some of us have standards, perhaps that makes me a traditionalist but that's how I am."

"Standards? Really Isaac? You're just down the road from two strip joints, one of which you're beloved V.V runs," I pointed out with a smile. It did not help, he just seemed to frown harder and fresh rage blazed in his eyes.

"I should have known better than to think a Malkavian would understand," he complained haughtily. "You are best in Downtown with your own lowly kind, I'm sure your stuck-up prince doesn't care what you get up to so long as it doesn't thwart his goals. Mind you though, you've been here so long it's always possible he'll think you have turned traitor, he's always paranoid."

I shrugged. "His office has tiny mice in the walls and little fairies in the lights, they would make anyone paranoid."

He shook his head. "Well if you're not afraid of what he thinks go back to him then, it's time you did."

"Again with this? Isaac I don't want to leave, Hollywood is fun!" I protested.

"And fun is all it is to you then?" he queried savagely.

I gave a wide grin and nodded. "Well except when the elves steal my stuff," I admitted, "and when Ash throws me out of his club. I know those snakes are hypnotising people, he's just in denial about it."

Isaac gave another of his miserable sighs, Toreadors are always so dramatic. "You need to go," he repeated, "when the sun sets."

"Isaac," I whined, "I haven't even found the dwarves' treasure yet and I know there's something more than costumes in that theatre."

He looked at me suspiciously for a moment before replying. "That might be," he said carefully, "but it's not your concern. You're causing too much trouble here," he gave me a sad, almost pleading look, "and too much pain. You have to leave, if only for a while."

"For a while," I repeated moodily as I folded my arms and frowned. "Downtown's smelly though and Seb's probably still mad because I stole some curtains from his office to use as nets, although I did say that it was to catch the poltergeist in the Ventrue offices so he might be alright and then there was that thing with Strauss' sunglasses. I mean, why would a vampire need sunglasses unless he knows about the second sun too?" I looked at Isaac knowingly. "It's up there, waiting to burn us in the night."

"Of course," he said dismissively. "Well it's late now and I must retire."

"Alone?" I queried curiously. Well he might think it alone but I knew there was a white rabbit in his coffin, a strange one with compasses for eyes.

"Alone," he answered firmly before turning away from me and walking off.

"But I want your company," I protested.

He halted but did not look back. "Well you should have considered that before bedding my ghoul." He gave a shudder of disgust before finally leaving the room.

"Why?" I queried my other selves. "I was bored, what else was I meant to do?" I looked at the floor and then crouched down on it, moving around in a tight circle before finally lying down curled up against myself. Cats and dogs seemed to like sleeping this way and I so wanted to have some dreams about chasing sticks and running in parks. I drifted off easily.

When sunset came Isaac was up surprisingly early with me. He spoke little to me, just a brief farewell before he told me to get a taxi. With little else to say I obeyed, finding an all too familiar yellow cab parked on the other side of town. I had considered saying goodbye to Ash and Alex but then I remembered that the fairies would tell them, they liked to be helpful like that, and so I left without looking for them, though I was kind enough to chuck a few eggs at the Asp Hole en route. I knew Ash would appreciate the gesture.

I don't know how long the journey to Downtown L.A took; I was too occupied with making faces at the driver in the mirror. He was a strange shady eyed sort, I wanted to add his sunglasses to my modest collection, which included Strauss', but I was afraid to ask for them.

When we finally reached Downtown, parking outside Sebastian's less than humble Ventrue Tower, I was relieved to climb out of the taxi though I was not so happy to be back on Downtown's filthy, chewing gum and litter stained streets. It did not help that the prey here was disgusting too, consisting of sick hobos, STD filled club goers and the usual alcoholics and drug users, what they put in their system I could unfortunately taste. Downtown was a lit up, modern graveyard in more than one way, it was filled with tall, cement and glass mausoleums and crypts full of flashing neon lights and booming music. It was a wasteland that pretended to be full of life and energy, masquerading with clubs, posh hotels and fancy office blocks.

I had loved Downtown when I had first come to it, I had enjoyed the banter with the Anarchs, all those playful insults we had exchanged, I had had fun stealing Strauss' magic tomes and I had been happy spending time with the stern Sebastian, trying to make him smile. It had gotten boring though and I wanted Hollywood and its fallen stars back.

I stepped up to the Ventrue Tower figuring that Seb might not be happy if I did not announce my return. I gave the tall, thin, black statues my usual look of suspicion, I knew they came to life when no one was looking and stole people's hats off their heads. Hmm maybe they had taken my cowboy hat, maybe it wasn't the elves? Perhaps they had come to Hollywood and thieved it? "I know what you did," I assured them calmly before I pushed open one of the glass doors and stepped in.

There in a large, cold room of gleaming black marble sat the wonderful, round and squishy Chunk at the desk, trying to seem important when he was as much use as the doughnuts he was so fond of. In front of him sat the two computer screens he was usually pretending to study and behind him in neon turquoise glowed the proud name of LaCroix. Smug bastard my darling prince.

"Greetings and salutations Chunk my darling dinky twinkie," I greeted brightly as I waltzed up to him.

"Greetings pumpkin," he retorted with a grin of joy. Poor man, he got so little action even a mad woman turned him on. "Are you here to see the boss?"

"Sadly," I confessed, "I wish I could just speak with you but then Sebby would get upset."

"Er...well my shift finishes soon," he remarked hopefully, "maybe we could grab a coffee?"

"Oh I wish but I have some business regarding a griffin," I said woefully.

"Griffin...right." He gave a nervous laugh. "Well go on ahead then, I'll buzz you up."

I walked to the right of the desk, up the steps and through the security gates, which as far as I could tell never seemed to be on. So far I had managed to bring in a shotgun, a pistol, a sword, and an axe without question. I had considered that maybe the hobgoblins living in the walls had helped me but now I just thought it was a case of very lax security. The lift binged and I stepped into and pushed the PH button, only just resisting an urge to run my fingers down all the wonderful numbers.

Up and up to the penthouse and then the lift binged again. I skipped into the large, glorious, golden office humming as I did, taking care to glance out the tall windows carefully for signs of the griffin. He was a cunning creature, always just out of sight but I thought tonight might be the night I caught him.

Sebastian stood up from his ivory desk with the gold leaved legs and frowned at me. I knew inside he was jumping for joy to see me, he just couldn't show it in front of his creepy Sherriff.

I paused before the desk and glanced up at the towering Sherriff. "Texas Chainsaw Massacre?" I guessed. He grunted. I knew he had been in at least one horror movie, I knew it but I still hadn't guessed which one. I had tried in vain to find him on the Hollywood computer database and then I had looked at some dvds in the Sin Bin when Alex had advised I go there for movies but all I had found was some rather disturbing one involving a llama. "Oh! Oh!" I snapped my fingers and jumped up and down excitedly. "I've got it, you're Frankenstein's Monster!"

"Enough," Sebastian snapped moodily. "Where have you been? I spare your life, I help you find a home, I provide you with money and you just disappear," he snarled. I had to wonder if he had rolled on a hedgehog in his coffin or something he was in such a bad mood.

"I would like to disappear," I murmured excitedly as I turned to him, "but I'm not very good at Obfuscating."

"No?" he queried sarcastically. "You know I wouldn't waste my time if I were you," he warned. Ah always the general, he had to sound tough, had to keep up airs of appearance and all that but I knew deep down he wasn't really mad with me, well maybe not entirely.

"I missed you Mr. Crow," I said sincerely, "quite a lot."

"It's LaCroix," he snarled with a furious glower.

"Right, I know it's been a while but I was busy, researching for you." Sometimes a lie went down better than the truth.

"Researching what?" he growled. "I sent you to Hollywood to find out if Nines was conspiring with Isaac and where that treacherous Gary is hiding, did you do that?"

"Oh yes um...Nines and Isaac have big plans, yes they want to steal a prince," I glanced at the Sheriff out of the corner of my eye, "who's guarded by a big scary monster and there was something about mushrooms."

"What?" Sebastian gave me an incredulous look. "They want to what?" He did not look like he was buying my story.

"Oh and Gary does have those missing Ventrue!" That was right, two Ventrue had gone missing whilst in Hollywood, I was meant to find them but I had gotten so distracted with movies, cuddling up with Isaac and annoying Ash that all of my minds had forgotten that little detail.

"He does? Are you sure?" LaCroix grew further suspicious but this time he looked like he might be buying it. "If he does this could mean war or a Blood Hunt at the very least." Blood Hunt always sounded like such a tasty thing but it never seemed to be.

"Well, I didn't see them, it's a rumour really," I admitted, "people said things about vampires matching their descriptions wandering through town and then there was talk of people disappearing underground, two attractive blondes going down an alleyway, then screams following and no one's seen them since. I tried to look but the sewers are clogged up and tunnels have collapsed, I couldn't find them." I was quite proud of my lie now, it sounded like a good story to me. In truth I did not recall hearing anything about any Ventrue, which was probably unusual in itself since Ash and Isaac were both happy to continuously gripe about Ventrue and the Camarilla.

Sebastian sighed and touched his brow wearily, so like Toreadors with their feigned human gestures these Ventrue. "You have to be sure; you were there for weeks how can you not be sure?" He glared at me with those beautiful, piercing, grey eyes.

"Well Isaac doesn't really like to talk about the Camarilla," I admitted, "and neither does anyone else, or the Nosferatu, they're too gross for the Toreadors." I quite liked them, I always wondered if the lumps on their skin would burst and if hundreds of mini Nosferatu would come spilling out of them.

"But he talked to or about Nines?"

Ah back to the number man again, hmm if I said too much here the Anarchs of The Last Round bar wouldn't be too pleased. "Well he mentioned six, seven and eight too but nine came up in conversation, briefly. I didn't see him there though, I think they were on the phone, vampires still use the phone right?"

"Of course we do!" Sebastian snapped. "Look if they are planning a coup against me I need to know!" Touchy tonight, why was everyone so touchy?

"Isaac kept quiet about things like that around me, wasn't too sharing, I did my best but for some reason he didn't trust me." I beamed innocently at Sebastian. "I wouldn't let you down, I want to get you a crown, remember? And I like your shiny tower and your authority." I smiled. "It's nice to see people in control."

"Good," he said, relaxing a little at last. "I suppose you can't be faulted for your mad state, annoying as it is, still it makes you unreliable, I need hard evidence before I can take action. If I tried to defend my position now they would just accuse me of being paranoid and ruthless, no, it's not good enough," he muttered. "Still, you were there for so long, what were you doing in all that time?"

"The Baron had me doing errands," I blurted out, "said it was custom for visitors to show him some sort of token, personally I think he took advantage of me," I grinned again, "quite a bit of advantage but he's the bad baron, can't argue with that."

Sebastian frowned slightly. "I see, so when you were meant to be helping me you were helping him instead, is that it?" Uh oh.

"Not quite," I said hurriedly, "just that I was in his territory, trying to get close to him for you, but it wasn't happening unless I did him favours. It didn't really work in the end because he still didn't trust me though, remember that?"

"Right." Again that careful look of suspicion, time to pull my mad face to fool him. I crossed my eyes and let my tongue loll limply out of my mouth. "Children of Malkav," he grumbled, "such insight really is wasted on all of you, you could know so much." Fooled. "Right, well now that you have returned maybe you would like to do something to get you back into my good books as it were."

"Oh yes," I purred and leaned up against him, prompting a grunt from the Sheriff, "I would love to be in your good books Mr. LaCroix."

He recoiled with a slightly nervous fluster that almost made me laugh. "Right." He made a point of fixing his black tie back into place. "Well Nines is in town and since you mentioned he might be plotting with Isaac to overthrow me, naturally I would like some confirmation on that. Check out The Last Round bar and see what you hear from him and the other Anarchs, they might be willing to share with you."

"Okie doke general!" I saluted him and turned and marched out of the office.

Outside I spotted some men in biohazard gear standing by a corner muttering incoherently to each other. I had once had great fun chasing one of them down an alleyway, he hadn't been able to run too fast in such a heavy suit, nor had the rubber done much to save his neck from my fangs. So there was still some sort of plague in town then, Strauss had alluded to it before I had stolen his sunglasses.

My thirst was starting again, it was harmless for the moment, just a low almost unnoticeable growl but it would grow and grow until it forced me to answer it. I glanced about the streets for a worthy victim but there was none, the streets were quiet, the plague and growing crime kept them that way, people huddled together at Club Confession, hoping to be saved by unity, the need to escape their lives was too strong for them to resist, they had to escape their prison homes and their dead end jobs by partying, drinking hard and doing drugs, even if it meant risking death in other ways.

I headed to The Last Round and wondered if I would be attacked on sight or if the violent prone Anarchs might be interested in talking for a change. Hot-blooded Brujah most of them, a tough, punk styled clan, rebels who had not let go of their teenaged styled desires for freedom and justice. They were all about fighting the power, communists really, not that they liked that comparison. It was amusing really that Isaac was an Anarch, he seemed so structured, calm and intelligent compared to these barflies, and he was a man of control and power whilst Nines, the hailed leader of the Downtown Anarchs shunned power, it made him uncomfortable, nervous even.

The Last Round looked as hostile and unwelcoming as ever, there were bars on all the windows, the sign was aged, in need of redoing and the green door was filthy and firmly shut. Rusting shutters hung on either side of the window, open only because they were so rusted they were no longer capable of closing, music boomed out through the thin panes of dirty glass and through the cracks in the door. It was so more impenetrable than the Anarchs themselves.

I pushed open the door and entered to the booming music, the place stank of alcohol; a few punk styled humans lingered at the bar whilst others played pool. This place did welcome mortal patrons; the fat barman was a mortal after all, it was a way of both making business and concealing its real purpose as a meeting place for the rebels. After all LaCroix and his minions had to obey the Masquerade just like everyone else, they could not come in here and attack the Anarchs without risking vampire exposure to the mortal patrons, it just would not do.

I walked past the bar and there in her usual spot, lurking in the shadows just before the stairs was fiery eyed, army dressed Damsel, a redheaded sharp tongued bitch who I had to adore. She immediately glared at me with her eerie clear, yellow tinged eyes and snarled, "oh look who's back, if it isn't LaCroix's bootlicker."

"And look who still has a period even in death," I retorted brightly with a smirk.

She scowled, clenched her fists and immediately swore. "Whatda want Cammy?" she demanded moodily.

"You're too cute to be fierce," I informed her sincerely. It was true; Damsel was small, skinny and as adorable as a puppy in a Santa hat. Her green beret, her t-shirt with a soldier within an orange rectangle in the centre and her green cargo pants, made it look like she playing dress-up rebel as opposed to making her actually look like a genuine one. "Do you want to play skipping or hopscotch later?"

"Beat it fucking Cammy whore!" she snapped angrily.

I looked hurt. "No one ever wants to play with me," I grumbled before turning to the wooden stairs and heading up to where Nines hopefully was. Upstairs amongst some chairs and round red tables that had seen better days the three amigos lurked, standing against the walls at different points, hunched over and looking like stereotype tough guys.

Skelter, tall, black and buff, Jack, beardy and biker like and Nines, clean shaven, half-punk half-ex office boy. "Did you miss me?" I asked them all loudly and brightly.

Skelter stood upright, made a fist with one hand and punched it into his other palm. "You," he snarled, "do you want me to show your ashes to the door?"

"Well it would be rude if no one did," I retorted truthfully.

Skelter played it typical brass, tough and none too bright, a front for people who only understood fists, they I envied, I've always wanted to talk to my feet, to understand why they won't co-ordinate sometimes. Inside Skelter was smart, he knew our history and our curse better than most, he understood that the blood whispered to us, called to us and commanded us; he was one of the few other beings I had met who knew and understood that.

"You know you might have been gone for a while but none of us have forgotten the flyers you stuck all over here," he snarled.

Ah the joys of Obfuscate, helping vampires sneak around other people's domains to cause mischief since the dawn of vampirism. "Me? I did nothing," I protested innocently. "It was a set-up, a fix, I'm being controlled!"

He looked at me with a heavy scowl, his amber eyes fierce and cold. "Uh huh, so someone else stuck up posters saying 'Kiss LaCroix's Shiny Boots'?" he queried sardonically.

"I would say so, so," I retorted brightly. "I don't even think he wears boots, they're shoes, definitely shoes, yes they talk to me sometimes, they're nice shoes, I wouldn't insult them by calling them boots."

"Shit your mind is a mess," he said stonily before shaking his head.

"Really because I just did the dusting and sweeping yesterday," I retorted forlornly. Sometimes it was just so damn hard to keep it clean.

"Alright kid, what do you want already?" This weary question came from Nines, who had just walked up to us.

"Some spoons, a new bed, maybe a new jacket," I answered as I pondered my wish list, "Oh and a unicorn, definitely a unicorn. Or would that be, an unicorn? I've always hated grammar; make it two unicorns, grammar solved." I grinned happily at Nines and he frowned back.

"I don't know if you intentionally piss people off or if you really can't help it because you're mad," he muttered.

"Maybe I work for LaCroix because I'm mad," I suggested tentatively.

He cocked a dark eyebrow up at that suggestion and seemed to contemplate it. "Maybe. So are you here on his business, that it?"

"Do you know the Baron?" I queried suddenly with an eager look. "I came from the Baron."

"The Baron? Do you mean Isaac?"

I nodded. "We're close," I assured.

"You and Isaac?" He regarded me in disbelief as Jack let out a sudden, loud snicker. "Somehow I doubt that, can't see Isaac hanging out with someone like you."

I frowned. "That's rude and offensive. Besides, I can't lie; my nose will grow if I do."

He shook his head with a somewhat bemused smile. "Kid you really are crazy."

"Well alright I might have made Isaac a little mad," I confessed, "no big deal but he's grumpy, I thought if you knew him maybe you could tell him I'm sorry."

"You made him mad? Now that I'll believe but you're sorry? Just as sorry as you claimed to be about egging my car?" I liked to egg things, the yolk and white mixed together so prettily.

"I was sorry about that," I said solemnly. Sorry because they had been phoenix eggs, so the fairies had told me.

"My ass," he said so bluntly.

"I am sorry," I repeated with as much sincerity as I could muster, "could you please tell Isaac?"

He frowned at me and gave me his usual scrutiny. "I don't know kid, why should I help you?"

So he obviously did have contact with Isaac then, big surprise. This I could tell LaCroix without any real problem surely after all Isaac was the nearest most powerful Anarch there was, of course Nines would be in contact in them, everyone suspected that surely so what would be the big deal if I confirmed that for LaCroix? As for the conspiring to overthrow him? Well that I would maybe keep quiet about, perhaps best to focus on the vanished Venture instead.

"Because I've given you so much fun during my short undead life and for free!"

"Fun?" Skelter sneered sardonically.

"Kid if anything you owe us for your 'fun' not the other way round," Nines retorted.

I scowled everyone always seemed to want something; generosity just did not exist amongst the murderous bloodsuckers. "Well if I do something to you will you tell Isaac he's the crazy one and that his life isn't worth living er...dying? Hmm..." I paused trying to consider the correct term.

"Uh huh," Nines muttered impatiently with a roll of his pale blue eyes.

"Just tell him I'm sorry and that his life um undeadness will be boring without me and that I'm already bored without him."

"Right." Nines exchanged a look with Skelter who shook his head and waved his hands dismissively.

"She's LaCroix's bitch," he pointed out unhelpfully, "and her mind is a cobweb of madness," oh I liked that metaphor, "she might screw us over unintentionally."

Jack let out a loud laugh and at last came over to join our small party. Pity we had no balloons or cake, I missed the taste of cake, especially upside down cake but where's the fun if it's not upside down? Right side up is just so conformist. "Kid you are a handful," he barked at me with a smirk, "troublesome but entertaining alright." He gave Nines a glance. "I think you should give her a chance, you never know she could be useful, she has potential."

"And if she's not useful?" Nines queried calmly.

"Well then she'll probably get destroyed trying to help," Jack retorted followed by another mocking life.

"I'm not that bad," I grumbled.

"Nothing personal kiddo."

"I'm pretty sure I'm of age as well," I said pointedly, "at least I think, I couldn't find my ID and women so rarely know their age." I sighed. I was twenty something I knew that, I vaguely recalled Sarah; she looked twenty-two, twenty-three maybe... Well that was alright for Sarah but what about me? I was Ariadne now, wasn't I? Was Ariadne twenty-two, twenty-three or just simply without age? Ageless?

"Wonderful," Skelter remarked dryly. "You Malkavians are all the same, you would forget your own heads if it were possible."

I gave him an interested look, now there was a thought, how fun it would be to remove one's head, especially at Halloween and how interesting the night might be to go off without it or would it be dull since one would be subjected to only seeing the room one's head had been abandoned in? No wonder I had so many minds, just the one could not deal with all these thoughts, they were just too many and complex. I felt sorry for those who had only one poor mind to struggle with such a burden.

"Right," Nines said in his authoritarian way. He tried to be one of the plebs, easygoing, reluctant to be leader but there was definitely some part of him that was in control, the rebel that was tired of being under someone's heel and wanted to take back the power. "I will put in a good word to Isaac about you if you do something for me. Word is amongst everything else going wrong in this city that there's just a little too much talk of the supernatural going on amongst the Kine. They're getting a little too close to comfort to things they shouldn't be, specifically us. Now really you think the lofty Sebastian and his uptight followers might sort this mess out but it doesn't seem to be of concern to the Camarilla.

Go to Club Confession, most of the chatter seems to be going on there, and find out the source and silence them if you can. Be warned though, they've already drawn hunters to town, which is the last thing we need."

Why did I always seem to get chores? Spy on Nines, find the missing Ventrue, find out who was kidnapping and murdering people, steal the cocktail umbrellas from Vesuvius, find out who had stolen the cocktail umbrellas from Vesuvius, and now find out who was talking a little too much to Kine about vampires.

"Okay well for that you had better get Isaac to forgive me and welcome me back with open arms and I want three sparkly ribbons as well."

"What for?" Nines asked in a baffled manner.

Skelter frowned and shook his head. "Why do you ask?"

I grinned widely. "To lure the griffin, he likes shiny things."

"Why do I ask?" Nines muttered. "Right fine kid, you make the rumours about us stop and it's a deal."

"Yay!" I clapped my hands in a delight before turning from them and hurrying out of the club. I was thirsty now and I needed to satiate my growing thirst before it got out of control.


	5. Chapter 5

Club Confession, it loomed ahead, a loud, gothic structure, formerly a cathedral it had been renovated into a popular punk/goth styled club though it had maintained the high iron and wall fences, thick, metal entrance gates, patio courtyard and of course the stylish red paned arched windows. The gates were partially open as usual granting entrance into the opening courtyard. I paused at the gates for a moment to see if the lion headed door knockers were up for a chat but despite some patting and poking from me they choose to stay silent, obviously in a bad mood then.

I stepped into the courtyard and found it busy with smokers and people who had had more than a little too much to drink. Their blood called out to me and I almost salivated, I was so thirsty and there had been no easy prey on the way here. Downtown was just too dangerous for anyone but the polluted hobos and bag ladies to be caught out by themselves. My vision tinged slightly in red and I knew I was in danger of frenzying again. I shrugged it off and forced myself to go into the club, drunken patrons were usually easy to chat up and subtly feed on.

Inside there was no one in the check-in booth as usual, the club was short staffed and the owner, Venus, seemed to prioritise by paying women to dance in cages in their underwear rather than man the booth for coats or charge people for entry. She was so short staffed that she was in fact one of the bar women as well, in fact as far as I had noticed there was only her and two other women who served drinks. Yet despite the lack of staff the club always managed to be busy, I imagined it was because Venus used her powers over desire to lure people in, if I looked up at the gothic chandeliers carefully enough I could usually spot one of her cherub helpers shooting arrows down at unwitting dancers. What a clever scheme!

I glanced at the people lingering by the bar, some on the stools, others standing, leaning on the wooden surface for support. Blood first then I would find out who had been blabbing too much to the Kine. There was a suitable looking man in his thirties somewhere that I shuffled up to. He had spiked black hair, a nose ring, a ripped, fishnet vest and baggy, black trousers. I looked at him and saw an office boy with slicked black hair, glasses and a suit, someone ignored, someone desperate to stand out and yet also to fit in, even if it was with the strangest of bunches. Poor man, this was not his scene and it never would be.

"Hello there, beautiful evening," I purred up at him.

"What?" He gave me a curious look and blinked hard as he tried to decide what I was up to.

"I like your nose ring," I murmured, "very stylish, makes your nose look prominent." Hmmm so my skills of seduction did lack a bit but I was working on it. I could smell his blood, hot, tangy and salty, and I could hear it pumping through his veins, yes there was a juicy looking one, just visible at his throat. I felt my fangs prick against my lip slightly, I was so thirsty, I needed the blood, I craved it, delicious, life giving, nourishing blood.

"Well I just got it," he remarked with a degree of pride in his voice. A lie of course, I had seen as I had walked towards him that it was a clip on.

"Yes, it's quite lovely, piercings do turn me on you know."

"Really?" His cheeks flushed and he drew back a little yet I knew he was eager, his heartbeats had quickened at my words, he wanted some female attention, he needed it really but he was unused to it and it scared him.

"Really," I said huskily as I leaned in and up to him.

His eyes glazed over as he leaned forward for a kiss, I tilted his head slightly and sank my fangs in gently. He gave a little shudder, not entirely under then, but no protest as I started to suck slowly at his wonderful blood.

Sarah was back, with Samantha in a club dancing with someone, a man, tall, red headed? Or was he blonde? He held her gaze, and soothed some of those mad thoughts that had been plaguing her lately. A promise, an invite? Back to his house later for something she would not regret, something more than she could imagine, her deepest, darkest desires come true. Yes, Sarah wanted that, she wanted him.

Samantha was shaking her shoulder, pulling her out of her trance and back from her dance partner. Samantha looked annoyed; she was complaining about someone or something and gesturing back to a man, tall and muscular with a very thin crop of whitish blonde hair, amber shades and a wide grin.

I arched back, stretched open my mouth and hissed slightly as my eyes widened. Music, booming guitars, lots of electric, hearts pounding all around me, so much chatter, so much blood racing through veins. Yes, yes warm, bounteous blood, everywhere, I released my victim and he fell limp to the floor. I closed my mouth and suppressed a tremble, I wanted more, I needed more but I could not have it, suspicions would arise. Already there were mutterings about the guy who had just fallen to the floor.

I looked down at him with mild curiosity, he was still alive but not by much, he would probably slip into a coma soon and die from blood loss but at least I had not taken him right to the death. I turned from him and grinned at Venus who was looking at me curiously for an explanation.

"Got a confession darling?" she queried tentatively with an arched eyebrow.

Venus, not how I had pictured the goddess, no blonde locks and no nudity, she had frowned when I had asked about that and denied owning a giant seashell, I knew she was lying of course and that she simply wasn't willing to share such a treasure. Pity because I knew it would be fun to surf the seas of Santa Monica on a seashell. Venus was the epitome of sexy goth chick, she had the dyed black hair, the eyeliner, the dog collar, the nose piercing (hers was real) and the black clothes including a mini skirt and a very revealing t-shirt cut almost completely open at the chest giving everyone more than a glimpse of her ample attributes.

"He had too much to drink," I said sombrely.

"Really?" Venus sighed. "Some men just can't handle it. "So any nasty, dirty stories to share?"

"Not me." I grinned innocently. "Here to hear some actually."

"Oh?"

"Anyone shared some dark tales with the love goddess?" I pried.

"Lots of people honey," she retorted with her own plump smirk. "They trust the beat princess when they've had a couple of shots."

I leaned closer. "How about some horror stories?"

"Oh there have been more than a few of them," she said teasingly. "Anything more specific?"

"Well..." Now how did one delicately ask about someone discussing vampires without violating the Masquerade themselves? Hmm... "I'm bored, I need someone to tell me bedtime stories," I said truthfully, "it's a special interest." In fact it was, though I preferred tales of dwarves, elves and fairies, my favourite kind of non-fiction.

"Oh really?" Venus laughed. "Well I always thought you might be a bit weird in that department. So, tell Venus what are your dark sexual fantasies then and maybe I can find your ideal prince."

"Well I've already got a prince," I told her candidly, "but I'm sure another companion will be alright. Vampire tales are the best ones."

Venus laughed again. "Like to get bitten in bed then? Well that's not so strange, not these days anyway. Well now I know more than a few men who like to get rough but specifically, there have been a few murmurings you might like." She gestured with one ringed hand behind me and to the left. "That girl there has been making some loud bragging about er...ahem her undead master? Some sort of kinky relationship I'm sure and then just the other night there was a fellow who really needed a drink, claimed he'd met some nasty supernatural down in the old hospital. But hey this is L.A, weird shit happens."

"Too true," I murmured. Something in the old hospital? Yes I knew about that one, called herself Pisha, twice damned flesh eater and blood drinker, I called her a cannibal, she said she only stuck to humans not her own, I had them complimented her on her funky make-up before leaving. So Pisha had let someone get away? Hmm potential Masquerade risk that but was he the rumour causer?

"Thanks goddess," I commented before turning from Venus and walking over to the woman she had pointed out. "Oh Buddha it's you," I groaned when I realised I recognised this one. Patty, long time winger, part-time ghoul, also a fashion critic.

"Do I know you?" She glared at me with her beady black eyes. "Oh wait it's you," she whined in her nasally voice, "changed your clothes for something even less appropriate then? Do you just shop in Halloween stores?"

"Still complaining about Clark Kent?" I queried pointedly.

"That's Kent Alan Ryan," she snapped, "and I'm just a little concerned that's all, nothing you would understand. You wouldn't even know him anyway; he is so like above you."

"Could be below me," I suggested, "down in the dirt somewhere."

She narrowed her eyes at me. "What do you mean by that?" she demanded in her horribly annoying voice. Patty was a Ghoul who'd lost her blood fix, chiefly a Toreador who had grown bored with her and abandoned her. I had never met the guy but Skelter knew him and had told me all about Patty, thought all the vampires loved her, that she was the Miss Popular with them that she had never been at school when frankly she was just an annoying knob whose infatuation had even irritated a Toreador. Quite a triumph really since Toreadors loved nothing more than attention and admiration.

Needless to say I took a great deal of pleasure out of pretending to know where this Kent Alan Ryan guy was and winding Patty up about it. "You tell me, I've heard you've been asking around. You know humans observe so little, it's the dust bunnies and white rabbits you have to ask, they hear everything," I told her sincerely.

She scowled at me. "Think that's funny? For your information I have been asking about him, yeah, because that's what you do when you're concerned about someone who's missing." Patty looked pale, her eyes were sunken, her nails tinged with red, her brow and fingers wrinkled, she resembled so many drug addicts in town. As I knew an addiction could drive you to desperate measures, to exposure and revelations that should be kept quiet.

She was an annoying bitch and I should relish a chance to kill her and I was still thirsty, yes so very thirsty, but if I got rid of her then who would I play with? I had so few playmates in Downtown, Sebastian was too busy, Nines too serious, Damsel too young for me to expose her to my kind of fun, Strauss was even more serious than Nines and probably still pissed off about the glasses theft thing, Venus wasn't interested and Pisha was a little too icky, even for me. I was bored though, Downtown had too much crap going on for fun, the plague bearers kept most people indoors, I had already toilet papered The Last Round, the theatre was a bitch to get into and the Empire Hotel and Skyeline Apartments were dull. I had to get back to Hollywood, which meant fun or not, Patty had to die. I would eliminate her, tell Nines the blabbermouth was gone and then he would tell Isaac that his undeadness sucked without me and I would get to go back, hurray!

"Patty cake patty cake baker's man, bake me a cake as fast as you can! You can bake, right?" I looked hopefully at Patty; maybe a nice blood cake would change my mind.

"Er no, baking's not cool," she retorted haughtily.

I sighed, oh Patty, so annoying, no redeeming features, just a horrible voice and a bad fashion sense. Nothing looks good if it looks normal. "You know ," I dropped my voice low, "I might know where Supervamp is."

"What?" Patty looked at me curiously and her eyes widened a little. "What did you say?"

"It's hard to speak with all this music, come outside and I'll tell you," I said to her suggestively, using maybe just a little Persuasion in my voice. Hey whatever it took to put this suffering ghoul down, yes I was really just being a nice vet, doing the necessary job.

"Okay."

I turned and led the way out of Club Confession and round the corner, down the side of the building where no smokers lingered. I turned to Patty and smiled. "Be still," I said persuasively, "still and quiet and nice, and soon you'll see rainbows." I was envious of that, it would be nice to see a rainbow, if only to kidnap the leprechaun at the end of it.

Patty resisted a little with a frown but she was still even as I leaned into her and broke the skin on her neck, sinking my fangs deep towards that irritating voice box of hers. Ah lovely nectar again, so warm and seductive, it sent a surge of pleasure through me like nothing else, it was honey, it was wine, it was everything pleasant and addictive.

Sarah was there again, Sarah the college student, lost in thoughts over an essay, trying to write about...History? English? Art? Paintings on her walls, weird, twisted, horrific images, the madness creeping closer. She could not focus, could not think, it was too quiet, it was too noisy, the voices were getting louder. She needed to go out, she needed a distraction, up, on the phone, calling Samantha, Samantha was always good for a night out.

Hurrying down the streets, someone or something was watching Sarah, something hungry or were they thirsty? Sarah hurried on, green eyes were watching her, eyes always watching her, had been for weeks now. A voice whispering dark thoughts in the night.

Patty slumped in my arms with one final groan, mustn't kill her, must just let her die herself, lose humanity but humanity was already lost, I was inhuman, I was thirsty, more blood, more! Fangs back in, may as well finish it, couldn't waste the last few drops, yes, licking and sucking hard, pulling it all out, beautiful blood. Losing myself, going monstrous, feral like the Gangrels, well they were lucky, how much fun to turn into another animal, how I envied them, their other personalities could escape, mine were confined to just my form.

Patty was dead. I let her go; the body might make business hard for Venus but she could just bat her eyes and blow out some hearts and all would be right again, handy to have goddess powers I imagined. I was bloated now, close to vomiting back up the blood, I had taken too much, it hurt my stomach, bubbled in it uncomfortably. I staggered out from Club Confession's property; perhaps I should pay Pisha a visit and see who had escaped from her if only to give me something to do. Yes why not? Maybe I would be thanked for tying up all these loose ends? Unlikely, Sebastian rarely showed gratitude, haughty prince, still I did adore him anyway, those seductive grey eyes, soft, blonde hair, that aura of power, thin though it was, he was delusional like me and maybe that was what I liked best.

I skipped down the mostly empty streets, nodding to the thugs, hobos and bizarre biohazard guys as I did. The night was late, I would have to curl up somewhere and sleep soon, the Skyeline Apartments or Empire Hotel would do fine, maybe the Empire for something a little more luxurious. I reached the old hospital, creepy place, waste of space really, shame for patients that it had demised especially with a plague going on. I slipped through the large tear in the pathetic chain fence, headed up to the door and nudged it open. Not the best place to hang out, no company except the dead and sadly no stethoscopes or long, white coats to play doctor games with. Last time I had come here I had bumped into some spooked film crew, they had been hoping to shoot a fake ghost segment in the hospital and Pisha had made it a little too real for them. I had tried to get in as an extra but alas my scenes got cut when Pisha smashed up the cameras. Pity, I had thought my Subterfuge skills had been a nice touch too, a ghost effect as it were. I had tried to get a starring role in Hollywood but according to Isaac scenes of random Hysteria were not what a romance tragedy needed, in my opinion it was exactly what was needed.

I stumbled through the dilapidated hospital letting the whispers guide me over the debris of smashed wheelchairs, bent plastic chairs and torn shards of the cheap wooden and plaster walls, whilst ducking to avoid numerous cobwebs. Pisha certainly was the spider queen, luring people to her twisted webs, I preferred hunting rather than luring. I had to duck and crawl under gaps beneath the floorboards to reach her as several doors were blocked with debris but I did not mind, it brought me closer to the dwarves and I was hopeful of finding some of their diamonds down here in the dirt or maybe a dragon skull.

I looked about hopefully as I crawled but there were only useless medicine bottles and discarded needles, perfect place for the junkies. I climbed out of the final hole, dusted my uniform down and pushed open a bloodstained door to find Pisha standing before an operating table littered with blood, skulls, bones and limbs. Ah she did have such an interesting appetite.

"Hello Pisha who is not Pisha," I greeted merrily.

She looked at me warily with her flashing eyes. "Welcome kin, and what do you come seeking down here?" Her lips and bare chest were stained in blood just adding to her creepy appearance, I had to love it, Pisha had this night terror thing down to an art. I wanted to copy her but I knew someone would definitely scold me for wandering about town with bloodstains on me, everyone's a spoilsport.

"I heard a fly got away," I said teasingly.

She arched one of her thin eyebrows at that and shrugged. "Terror is the fear of death and he certainly feared his," she admitted in her usual candid manner. "He will come back though, one way or another."

"Certain?" Whispers of a man, middle-aged, dark haired, friends, screaming on the cameras, thought it was just special effects. I smiled. "Oh Pisha you had them tricked," I commented enviously.

"It was not my intention, merely circumstance, they came here and saw too much, they had to die and so does he."

"And yet you don't seem that bothered," I pointed out.

"If there is exposure I will leave," she said simply, "but I think he will return, curiosity and disbelief will drive him to find the truth, and guilt, he left his friends down here after all, is it impossible to think they might yet survive?"

"You're always so cryptic," I praised her, "you should be one of my kind, we're good with the riddles. Who plays power in a white tower when really the puppeteer has no strings?"

She stared at me, coldly and curiously for a moment. "Careful what you say young one," she said calmly, "I do not think certain Camarilla would like that kind of riddle."

I frowned. "None of them have any sense of humour. Anyway," I scratched my head thoughtfully and pushed back my cap, I had come here for a reason, hadn't I? Oh yes. "The number man said someone was talking too much of Kindred instead of Kine, could it be your victim?"

"Well he only escaped this evening," Pisha retorted coolly.

"And showed up at the goddess' joint sometime after talking of demons and spiders," I replied brightly, "but yes, couldn't have spread to he of the sixes, sevens, eights, nines and tens, so soon."

"It is unlikely," Pisha agreed. "He came early in the evening with his crew, fled maybe three hours ago, obviously went to the bar for safety and company. No, this number man of yours would not know anything of it yet. Besides, what he speaks of can yet be contested, he is a film director, his stories can be dismissed as a plea for publicity."

"Hmm a rumour to be spread then," I murmured. "I suppose it must have been the ghoul who was blabbing, she did whine so."

"Indeed."

"Well ciao Pisha who is not Pisha, I shall go, Helios is coming on his chariot." I peered at her carefully; the whispers circled her like snakes, ghosts of the past and present.

"Go little Malkavian, you will not get my real name, not unless you want me to destroy you," she said serenely.

"Bye, bye!" I waved and hurried back out, keeping my eyes ever watchful for dragon bones. I considered keeping them peeled but truthfully their skins weren't ready to come off just yet.

On and on through the hospital, up the stairs, past the fuzzy monitor, out the door and back into the cool night with a sky slowly lightening. Time for rest, time for shelter and peace, off to the Empire Arms, deceitful name, I had looked all over inside for these arms and there had been not a one in sight and when I had asked at reception they had tried to throw me out. Obviously keeping them for themselves, how selfish. It was tall, grand, modern and posh, a skyscraper but a lot fancier than the Skyeline Apartments, yet it was not Isaac's lovely jewelled den.

I pranced in, and used some Seduction to gain myself a free room from the receptionist, silly, weak willed man that he was. It was a beautiful place of marble floors, rich cream carpets patterned with gold swirls, blue patches and flowers with jewelled amber and green centres, wooden panelling and columns along smooth, veined, cream walls and large potted plants spaced tastefully about. There was music in the air from the dining room and the mindless chatter of guests and staff. I ignored it all, too tired to play with anyone, and headed up to a suite of striped, mint green walls, cool, green carpet, matching heavy drapes and most importantly of all, a double bed complete with four pillows, four cushions, a quilt and a blanket. Shame I had no one to have a pillow fight with.

I drew the drapes and curled up with a sad sniffle, it was terribly lonely now that my voices had gone to sleep. As I drifted off I sensed someone high upstairs, someone dreaming of draining and draining dreamers, a poisonous queen of sorts.

I awoke with the dusk, thirsty, vigorous and a little less lonely as I had three voices for company although it was not the same without Isaac near and having a night of winding up Ash to look forward to. I moved out of my room sombrely, heading downstairs to the bar for a drink. I got the usual looks of envy, people secretly wanted my handcuffs I knew it, as I entered the busy barroom and looked for a worthy snack. I would caution myself this time, resist killing just have a light breakfast. My gaze fell on a skinny brunette in a low cut, tight, crimson, silk dress. Alone and looking moody, she sipped at a martini bitterly whilst casting her cold blue eyes sulkily over at a youthful man chatting up some other woman with much larger breasts. I moved in and when she gave me a less than pleasant look I summoned up my best Seduction powers.

"Red is a beautiful colour," I murmured, "so sensual."

"Yes." She gazed at me moodily, evidently not impressed.

"You wear it well."

"And?"

Sheesh could she not take a compliment? Must be the pixie on her olive that was spoiling her mood. "And I thought maybe you were different, an interesting woman, a woman who likes the finer things."

Her gazed turned curious as I thought it might, shame though because I had been contemplating giving her some hallucinations just to spice things up. "Go on."

"Lean close, I have a lot to say."

She leaned in and I went for the bite, she gave a groan of ecstasy as my fangs sank in, never once aware of the pain. Sarah flickered through two of my minds, foolish, annoying, repetitive Sarah, mad little Sarah, worried Sarah getting stalked by some unknown night creature. I pulled back; I had savoured enough for now, no more humanity losses. The woman was in a daze; I helped her out of her dull stupor with some mad giggling and slipped out as she doubled over in a fit of laughter whilst the other humourless guests watched on in puzzlement.

Time to see the number man and ensure that he would be getting down on bended knee to beg the Baron to take me back. Should probably visit Sebby too, tell him that Isaac and Nines liked to picnic together but alas no proof of gunpowder plots, ensure the Prince that if I returned to the film land I would put on my deerstalker cap and hunt down the missing Ventrue once and for all. I bypassed the usual hungry, drug eyed riffraff as I headed back a familiar bar on the outskirts of town.

Back to The Last Round, I found the usual shady bunch of hobos stumbling around it along with one slightly nervous cop who had a twitchy gun hand. I ignored them all and kicked open the door, entering with a loud, proud, "TA DA!"

"What the Hell?" Damsel exclaimed in outrage as all the patrons gawked over at my brilliant entrance. "Dumb Cammy bitch you could've broke that door!"

"Could've, should've, would've and will've one day," I remarked brightly as I walked up to her. "Where's the commie boss then?"

"The what?" Damsel growled out angrily.

"You're darling Lenin, he of the rebel spirit!"

"You make no fucking sense," she remarked bluntly.

I sighed and patted her sweet beret head. "So young and naive," I sympathised before whirling round and marching up the stairs.

"Bitch!" she yelled up at my backside.

I stopped upstairs and found Nines, Skelter and a tall, well-dressed stranger with grey eyes and a flop of well groomed dark hair. They all looked at me, Nines shook his head and Skelter glowered while their companion just looked surprised. "You owe me three ribbons and a Baron number master!" I exclaimed happily. "The one of too many words is slain!"

"Malk talk properly," Skelter growled, "if it's possible."

"Really kid? Well if that's true then I'll put in a word with Isaac for you," Nines commented calmly.

"It is true!" I snapped indignantly. "I put the bad kitty down!"

"And just who were they out of interest?" Skelter queried.

"The whiny ghoul of fashion," I answered seriously, "she of the patting."

"The patting?" the yet nameless one spoke. "You mean Patty?"

"Uh oh," Skelter murmured.

I grinned at the well-dressed bloodsucker and nodded. He came at me in a blur, too fast for me to dodge; all I could think was whether the moon was made of cheddar or mozzarella and, Toreador then.

"Kent don't!" Nines cried out a little too late to save me from some serious bruising.

* * *

><p><em>To answer some queries, no this is not a direct retelling of the game however it does take a lot of aspects, characters and missions from the game and puts them within the framing of my own fanfic. Basically its about my OC Ariadne trying to solve the disappearances and murders in Hollywood, find the missing Ventrue and find out the mystery of her old life as Sarah all whilst travelling through the Bloodlines world, dealing with the characters there and doing the bidding of more than a few. Confusing I know but I wanted to write some of my versions of the missions in the game because well they're fun and this is a fanfic about the game.<em>

_Anyway hope that's clear some things up, most likely it's just confused you all more lol. Many thanks for the reviews and favs, keep them coming, they are all greatly appreciated!_


	6. Chapter 6

One broken collarbone, arm, a couple of bruised ribs and a twisted ankle later and Kent Alan Ryan had finally been dragged off me, for his part he had suffered what I hoped was a broken leg and jaw and a swollen nose, always good to go for the face with the vain Toreadors. I was in a crumpled heap on the floor impatiently waiting for my body to finish healing itself whilst Kent was seated on a battered red barstool shooting me glowers.

"Kent," Skelter spoke up, "Patty was talking too much and too loudly, once you stopped showing up and she couldn't get her blood fix she turned desperate and far too curious. If the Malk says she was the blabbermouth she probably was." How charming the amber eyed rebel was defending innocent me.

I heard Nines let out an exaggerated sound somewhere between a sigh and a growl. "I did ask her to silence whoever it was," he confessed, "they were drawing too much unwanted attention and you did abandon her Kent. Did you not think a blood starved ghoul might be a problem?"

I looked to Kent; someone had been a bad boy! The Toreador looked unconcerned, and there I had been expecting a sad face and some feigned emotion they were so famous for. "I suppose it's my fault," his grey stare fell on me, "what can I do to make amends then?"

"You could help out with something actually," Nines injected before I could make a request for some tinsel coated bunnies, "the Malk here wants to get back into Isaac's good books, maybe you could put in a word?"

"Isaac?" Kent gave me a look of suspicion and doubt that I was long becoming used to. Was the Baron too good for me or something? How rude, I was the unanimously elected queen of the tooth fairies, the princess of the goblins and I could release the Kraken if I so wished, silly Anarchs had no idea how special I was!

"He fell out with me," I admitted, "silly misunderstanding over a zombie keeper."

"Romero," Kent commented dryly, "what did you do to him?"

I grinned. "Made his night, he was deprived poor guy."

"He must have been if he hooked up with you," Skelter grumbled sardonically.

"So you had sex with Isaac's ghoul then," Kent remarked, "but why would that piss him off?"

"Well..." As much I did like Romero I was starting to feel some guilt over the matter, I missed Isaac, more than any of my minds had thought I could, curling up with him was different to being with anyone else, I enjoyed how emotional and open he was when we were in private, save for the white rabbit and the nosy elves of course. "Isaac and I-"

"Wait what?" This loud interruption came from Nines who immediately came over to me. "You and Isaac? Now Malk there's lies and then there's outright bullshit."

I frowned up at him. "It's true, I swear by Odin! Isaac welcomed me, he said my thoughts were beautiful and that I had a strange but wonderful outlook on the world," I had mostly considered his praise Toreador prattle at the time but now I missed it, "we were close, he even trusted me." Yes trust, fragile as a crystal glass, I had considered our relationship open, our trust vague at best, now I was wondering if perhaps I had misinterpreted that. I recalled how we had parted; I had not even told him the Hatter's news. The rose, such a pretty flower, so deceiving too with those sharp thorns, I had never like flowers, they always seemed snobby to me, oh look at me I have numerous petals and I'm so damn colourful, what the Hell have you got? Arms, really that's it? Well I can walk flowers so fuck you!

"Trusted you?" Nines was looking at me incredulously. "Does he know you're his highness' pet?" he mocked.

"Really? Because he never walks me or gives me biscuits, not much of a master, "I lamented. "The Baron knows I came from the prince, sent to find some silly Ventrue, got lost, no one ever takes a map these days."

"Missing Ventrue?" Nines' blue gaze deepened and he cocked his head back at Kent.

Kent shrugged. "First I heard but I haven't been to Hollywood in a while, I was at Santa Monica."

Nines gaze turned back on me. "Does Isaac know about this?" he queried.

"Never mentioned them, no one has, not even the birds or dwarves, strange really. Too many other things in star town, too many missing, maybe they all fell into a portal and dropped down to Neverland."

"Nosferatu most likely," Kent grumbled with a shudder of disgust.

"Who else is missing?" Nines demanded. There was an alarm in his eyes, not a ringing red bell disappointingly, just standard shock. Funny to think he had a phobia of missing people.

"Kine," I said calmly, "but then they will vanish just like my boots. I was investigating," I sat up, healed now, and puffed out my chest proudly.

"Riight," the number man doubted me again. "This could be bad with Ventrue missing," he muttered, "that dick in the tower might use it as an excuse, I'll bet that's exactly his intentions and you kid, you'll just be his instigator if you're not careful. He wants you to find some evidence to suggest the Anarchs are involved, then he'll have a propaganda spin on the whole thing and we will be in for trouble."

"Spin, spin!" I cheered enthusiastically. "Round and round," I stood up and twirled round the floor until my vision blurred. I stopped and stumbled with a giggle.

"Those Ventrue will need found," Kent spoke up, "last thing we need is their snobby kind thinking we've something to do with it and starting a revenge campaign, worse, if that baby face can link you to it he'll call a Blood Hunt," he warned Nines. "I'll have to head back to Hollywood and tell Isaac." He gave me a wilting glance. "Assuming you haven't."

"No I got star struck," I giggled again, pleased with my pun, "and forgot about them but shush, mustn't tell Mr. Cross or he'll get cross!" I let out a louder laugh. "He thinks I was hunting for them the whole time," I patted my nose proudly with one finger, "I have him stalled with rumours."

"I dread to think what of," Skelter murmured in his deep voice.

I bounced over to Kent and grabbed both his gloved hands tightly in mine earning myself another look of displeasure. What a pity displeasure, disgust and scorn can't be stuck to a pin board otherwise I would have quite the collection of rewards to show off to people. "Take me back with you," I begged, "Downtown is boring, no one wants to play and I miss the prickly land and I miss the Baron."

Kent looked at me coldly. "Who the Hell sired you and cursed us with you anyway?" he pondered.

"Moon boy," Skelter grumbled, "unsurprisingly, he paid for it though, that dictator had him executed, said we can't turn people without his holy permission." I heard him spit on the ground in disgust.

Moon boy? "So it was the man in the moon!" I realised with delight.

"Er no kid," Nines ruined my fun without a moment's hesitation, "though the way he got on he probably thought so. He was just a run of the mill Malkavian, mad in the head like the rest of you."

Ah a miller then, how quaint and fun! I could picture him now by the water wheel except I couldn't, not really, none of my minds could remember him save for faint flashes. Thin, blonde hair that looked like it had been pulled out in places...

"You should take her with you Kent," Nines said, "let Isaac deal with her. If she's been lying about him he can get rid of her."

"I suppose," Kent grumbled, "I'll let him know what she claims and remind him that she was sent to Hollywood by LaCroix in case she happened to forget that detail."

"I didn't," I protested angrily, "I told Isaac straight away, I said 'hi, I'm an agent of LaCroix here to spy on you only I don't want to spy on you because I like you!'" I smiled in what I hoped was a convincing manner. So it was not quite the truth but it was close, I had not hidden the fact that LaCroix had sent me to the home of the stars, although I had kept quiet on the whole finding out about ties between Isaac and Nines. "I'll have to speak with the Prince before I leave," I murmured, "so he doesn't get annoyed again."

"And so he doesn't send someone else to sniff around," Skelter suggested.

"That's true," Nines agreed, "kid, you could have your uses after all, better you in Hollywood than some overly curious Ventrue, especially if two have already disappeared, wouldn't want another one vanishing."

"Exactly!" I cried out gleefully though I had no idea what the Hell either of them was trying to say. I leaned close to Kent and beamed up at him. "Take me back with you and tell Isaac how good I am, how useful and fun and how sorry, I am sorry you know, deeply."

"Oh I'm sure," Kent sneered.

"Kent just take her," Nines said, "once you're there just give her over to Isaac."

"Yes, wrapped in some shiny paper with a big bow," I suggested, "make me nice and pretty for him."

"You can come only if you agree to keep quiet for the entire journey," he retorted stonily as he finally shook my hands off his.

"Okay!" I would keep quiet but the other voices might not be so agreeable, best not to mention that however.

"Right, we will leave tomorrow night then," he decided, "and you had better keep in line." He poked me hard in the ribs. "If not I will make sure you won't be healing from my next attack, Patty might have been a blabbermouth but she was still my ghoul, I don't have a problem with ending you."

"Just make sure it's a good end please," I said happily, "and be sure to save it, wouldn't want it lost."

He muttered a curse and rolled his lovely grey eyes. "Get the fuck out of here, I will see you here at seven tomorrow."

"Seven, seven, lucky seven!" I chirped before turning and skipping for the stairs. Time to go and tell the prince that I would be back in Hollywood to do his bidding and maybe slip a tidbit about Isaac and Nines being drinking buddies to him, I had to give him something otherwise he might just think me lazy or incompetent.

I hurried to the Prince, ignoring the growls in my stomach as I skipped down gloomy Downtown. At last escape, freedom from the plague bearers and release from the boring Goths, uptight Pisha and unexciting townspeople. Maybe when the plague was sorted Downtown would have some excitement in it again but until then Hollywood was the way to go. I glanced up at the skinny statues once more with suspicion, wondering if they had my sombrero as well.

"I know you took it," I snarled at them, "you just wanted to play with the tassels! Hat thieves!" I marched on in and shot my usual bright, slightly eccentric smile to the plump Chunk. "Good evening doughnut, open the magic doors and send me up!"

Chunk blinked at me, uncertain, but smiled anyway as I pushed just a little seduction and charm into my appearance. "Is he expecting you?" he queried.

"Oh yes," I assured. Technically true, I'm sure Mr. LaCroix did indeed expect me to visit before running off again.

"Okay, I'll buzz you up cupcake."

"Thanks lord of the refrigerator," I thanked before prancing past him to the lift that had just binged open. Inside I danced enthusiastically to slow elevator music before finally being granted access to the glorious top suite.

I sprang out merrily and found a gigantic sword poised at my throat. I looked up at my would be assailant and beamed happily at the sheriff. "It's Night of the Living Dead isn't it? I love that movie! Did you get to meet the great and awesome Ash?"

"Malkavian," Sebastian purred from over to the right by his desk, "what are you doing here?" I sensed him nod to the Sheriff and the blade was lowered.

"I have a name," I pouted.

He gave me a cool glance with his piercing blue eyes. "And what is it?" he queried in a stiff manner. Sebastian takes being dead to a whole new level sometimes, unless he's angry he seems to act a lot more inanimate than the rest of us. I don't know whether it's good or bad that the Prince and I are opposites, they say opposites attract but it's hard to get along with someone you have nothing in common with.

"Ariadne," I commented proudly.

He seemed caught between a smile and a frown and chose a calm and perfectly blank expression instead. "Right, not your birth name I imagine but I have heard worse from your lot. So, why are you here Ariadne? Do you have news for me?" His gaze became dangerous, almost feral, restrained merely by his Ventrue nature that forbade any animalistic behaviour within him; I knew there was a threat in it. Sebastian was obviously not up for playing games tonight, pity because I had been hoping to persuade him to play some Twister up on the rooftop of the tower. I glanced at the Sheriff and wondered if he could be persuaded, chances were he would cheat and use his wings. Yes I knew about them, they danced in my mind, thin, almost invisible membrane hovering translucently around his back, he came from across the waters, his true nature whispered to me, loudly sometimes but quiet at others. A voice in my head calling warning, Nagloper, Kindred of the Ebony Kingdom, unknown to me, forgotten to others.

I turned from him feeling Sebastian's blue gaze boring into me and wondered briefly if he knew how dangerous his pet was. "News, yes a telegram just for you!" I informed him brightly with a clap of my hands. "The number man and he with the barony do meet and greet, phonecalls, emails, they are quite the companions!"

"Really?" Sebastian gave a careful, tight smile. "And what do they discuss?"

Ah on dangerous waters now, must be careful not to get swallowed up by a hungry shark. I could not risk saying too much or Isaac might not be too happy with me and I was eager to get back in his good books. "Well, the Baron knows nothing of the missing Ventrue," I said truthfully, "nor does the Count." I grinned widely.

"The Count?" Sebastian echoed in puzzlement with a frown.

I nodded, proud of my new nickname. "He who counts numbers, the vampire with ties to the Baron!"

Sebastian gave a loud groan; clearly my humour was above him. "Do they merely claim not to have any knowledge over the Ventrue or is it the truth?" he wondered aloud.

I shrugged. "The number man seemed sincerely surprised to hear of absentees, truancy shocks even the rebel!"

"Is this all you have learned in this time?" he demanded with a hardened gaze. "I send you to Hollywood to find missing Ventrue, you disappear for months and return with no news about them or Isaac, apart from claims of an alliance with Nines for which you have no evidence, then I ask you to infiltrate the Anarchs and find out more of this alliance and you return, still with no proof?"

The Sheriff seemed to step behind me casting his long, heavy shadow over me. If I have been alive perhaps it would have sent a chill through me but as it was I was dead and merely found it annoying, although I was quite envious of its length and found myself wondering if I could maybe find Wendy and get her to sew me a nice long one. "The mad are rarely trusted," I commented serenely. "There is an alliance amongst the Anarch leader and the Baron of the stars. The missing Ventrue are unknown to any bloodsuckers in Hollywood, living or dead it seems, which is a mystery in itself but with many vanishing one might suppose they slipped under the cracks more easily. So many vanish, magicians, drug addicts, prostitutes, college students and more, more than usual. Perhaps a connection, perhaps not but Isaac is not spoiling for war, he would not take them."

"Really?" Sebastian queried bitingly. "Nor Nines, just to spite me or perhaps to be rid of some of their perceived enemies? Brujah are hardly known to be logical thinkers, they take action as it suits them, they would not think of the consequences. I know what they think of me and my close subjects, they view us as dictators to be overthrown, they would consider the elimination of my allies as a blow to my power."

I shrugged again. "Isaac is a Toreador, a clever one, he greets, he asks for tribute, he does not make vamps vanish and he would not have it happen in his land, it's not his way. He would send the nobles back to you. I think they are connected to the others missing, and I will investigate, maybe it will be Anarchs, maybe Tzimisce or Gangrel, dirty Sabbat, they do not think, they act rashly and violently, yes maybe they wander the starry streets causing chaos in chaos. I will find out, I promise and I will see justice done and deliver the truth to you Prince," I vowed.

Sebastian continued to scowl. "You have had months Malkavian, you are wasting my time, and I have been considering sending others in your place to find my Ventrue and find out what ties there are between Isaac and Nines. They are plotters wishing to take me down like Caesar, and like him I am expected to wrongly die for my people but I will not fall so easily! I have survived since the days of Napoleon, I have climbed to the ranks of Prince, I am not some neonate to be easily toppled over."

"Like the Tower of Piza," I murmured happily, "you lean but still you stand, stubborn thing." I moved into him and nuzzled against his chest. He stepped back with outspread arms, more in shock than anything else. "I like you Prince," I said sincerely, "though you did deal an end to my sire. Well..." I cocked my head back and flashed a fanged smirk to the Sheriff. "You did rather, because in his madness he angered the masked men. Yes..." I had a recollection of that evening, being made to kneel on stage, part of a great act, perhaps Sebastian's greatest performance to date. Ah he had so nobly spared me when the number keeper had protested, yes I could picture that, darling Isaac had been there, somewhere in the corner of my eye, unknown to me yet. My sire, this Moon Boy, up in ash and cinders, beheaded so swiftly with only a mad giggle as he tried to use some Hysteria. I smiled. "So many rules you have Prince," I mused, "so many lying in a broken pile, perhaps a hint, perhaps a suggestion."

"Your words grow dangerous," Sebastian growled as he mustered back some of his authority and shook off the nerves I had caused him.

"I think you need to enforce your rules more," I mused, "or abandon them altogether, it cannot be both ways. Anarchs, Sabbat, Camarilla, there is too much in this world, too many rivals and rivals within rivals. I will do my part though, yes," I leaned against him again, stretching my thin fingers up to grip his shoulders.

He gave a grunt of protest and I felt the tip of the Sheriff's unnecessarily large blade digging into the back of my neck. It was sharp and pressed hard enough to draw blood, I felt my neck grow damp and scented the sweet, hot nectar. It was too sweet, richer than a human's and not as fulfilling, they said if one drank of our kind one would receive the powers of their victim. I wondered if one would receive the madness too. Could I be purged of my insanity if someone sucked it out of me? "I will find the missing Ventrue," I murmured. I recalled Sebastian's description of them now, yes an image in my mind, a male and female, tall, toned blondes, pale with clear eyes, the male with green the female with grey, wispy, elegant creatures, blue blooded through and through but with the dangerous tint that all of us had. Predators, in their twenties when they had died, they went to Hollywood on business, hoped to cement an alliance between Sebastian and the uncrowned king of the sewers, the fallen golden boy. Had they made it as far as the Nosferatu or had they disappeared above ground?

"And you will get me proof of Isaac and Nines' partnership," Sebastian instructed coldly, "solid proof that I can produce when I am forced to call the Blood Hunt. A tie between them is too dangerous to be ignored," he lamented with a feigned sigh, "I will have no choice to stop it before it goes any further. I only wish for peace and justice amongst our kind, it is all I want and the Anarchs seek to shake it down unnecessarily, they will do more damage than harm to our kind." He looked down at me meeting my eyes with his own. "It was why, alas, your sire had to be sacrificed, if he were permitted to escape unpunished for creating you without permission who can say how many more vampires might spring up, unplanned, sired by Anarch, Sabbat and Camarilla alike. We would be taken over by these untrained neonates, they would be too many to be properly schooled and they would endanger us and themselves with their ignorance and numbers. The Kine would start to suspect. The change is a gift, a dark one mind and it must be thought out and considered carefully, people should not receive it at random."

I nodded, I did not miss Moon Boy anyway, I hardly remembered him. "And there is the risk of Thin-Bloods," I pointed out helpfully.

Sebastian's lips tightened together in a grimace. "Yes, a nuisance they are, too weak for anything," he grumbled. He shrugged my grasp off at last and my hands slipped from his shoulders down to grip his pale, icy hands. I took them in mine lightly and squeezed just once before releasing them.

"I take my time Prince, yes but patience is required," I tried to placate him.

He nodded, touching his brow briefly with his right hand before waving off the Sheriff at last. The sword tip finally left me but the scent of blood continued to plague my nostrils. My thirst was returning and growing. "Do you ever let yourself go Prince?" I wondered aloud. "Perhaps when you feed?" I suggested hopefully. "Do you bite hard into virgin necks and taste the screams with the blood and swallow down the fear? Or do you stick to emotionless plastic bags and deprive yourself of everything but a bland taste?"

He was frowning again but the spark of hunger was there in his eyes. "I feed as we all should," he said stiffly, "in a controlled manner, I take what I need but I do not kill, it is best not to sink so low into depravity. I drink from live Kine though."

"As you should," I murmured as I held back a shudder, I was so thirsty, so eager for that gushing hot life force. "I like the game, I like to lure the Kine to me, to have them calm, safe and completely ignorant, it makes it fun, their bodies are afraid and send the blood pounding to me but their minds are soft, my toys, my puppets. Do you feed alone or do others get to drink with you?"

"Usually alone," he admitted, "but there are the occasional exceptions. Hmm, it is getting close to the dawn, perhaps a snack before slumber, a reward for your promised services?"

Ah so the Prince had a brain then, seemed he knew full well what I was hinting at. I rubbed my head against him like a cat. "Yes, that would be much appreciated, although when I return I would like a nice shiny gold star."

He pulled back from me again, his body once more stiff, hardened like rigor mortis had set in, he was like Isaac, far too professional to be comfortable with such gestures. "I will have someone brought up for you then."

"For us," I murmured, "for us, let me sup at your table Prince."

"Well...I suppose it would be a symbol of your allegiance to me, yes, old-fashioned but suitable perhaps." Well if he wanted to view it that way I would let him, personally I just wanted to see him finally act like what he was, a goddamn vampire.

He walked back to his desk, leaned down to the intercom and pressed a button on it. "Clarise could you come up for a moment please? I have some files for you to sort out."

"Right away Mr. LaCroix!" came the cheery female's response.

He stood upright and gave me a cold smile. "Supper is on its way."

* * *

><p><em>With a name like Kent Alan Ryan this guy deserved to be a character, I was always disappointed that he never showed up in the game to try and avenge his ghoul. I hope you all enjoy this chapter, trying to make my OC a little bit more sympathetic, though overall really she's just too mad to consider feelings, she does have a soft spot for Isaac though but who knows if that will stop her from doing things just for fun? I hope no one is too OC here<em>, _I'm trying hard to make Sebastian a little more sympathetic, I mean in the game I get his goals but he is a tool and much like Teresa he just goes about things the completely wrong way._

_Anyway enjoy and always please read and review!_


	7. Chapter 7

I shifted about the taxi uncomfortably, I was suspicious of the driver, purple, everything about him was purple and those shades of his, what were they hiding? More to the point why was he always driving the taxi I got into? Why was it always him? He just seemed to be everywhere, but how? It was quite a handy trick really; one I would like, then I could divide up my minds and see what it was like to exist with just one at a time.

I felt Kent's grey eyes boring into me, he had ignored me for the first hour of the journey before I finally coerced him into three games of eye spy but eventually he had grown bored of that and turned grumpy. He was more interested in fixing his hair, typical Toreador I supposed.

I was longing to see Isaac again, to persuade him that he needed me with him; to tell him how lonely I had been without him even though I had the voices for company. Yet there was a reluctance in me too, one side of me was quite content to rush to his side and stay there but the other, the other was like that part of me that seemed dragged down with Sarah when I fed, it was my complicated half, twisted and turned by past events. That half of me was remembering how last night had ended and questioning whether I really was ready to completely throw my lot in with Isaac. Certainly I was devoted to him and his mixture of sentimental Toreador and tough, ruthless Baron, but the Anarch side; well could I devote myself to that?

In truth I cared little for the politics of humans or vampires, I had enough debates in my head without joining anyone else's. I liked the Prince, I like the Baron, couldn't we all just be happy and I would have a summer home with one and a winter home with the other? Feeding with Sebastian had been nothing short of spectacular, he had been a whole different Prince then, prompting me to wonder if he was a secret Malkavian. He had become ruthless and wild, a predator through and through, driven by the blood hunger, spurred on by his hunger and his need to survive. I had joined in with equal desire, invigorated by the scent and taste of fresh, hot, boiling blood. I had rejoiced as my fangs had broken soft flesh, and greedily sucked up all the carmine ambrosia that had come pooling up into my mouth.

It should have gone quicker since it was shared but for once I had been calm, slow and delicate about the matter, perhaps influenced or restrained by Sebastian's presence. He did not tear like a Gangrel or torture like a cruel Sabbat of the Tzimisce kind, even as he fed he still showed signs of his Ventrue kind, he had our victim Mesmerised, kept under a spooky trance that kept her quiet even as we slowly drained her.

He had pulled back, satiated with his fill and I had felt his cold blue eyes willing me to stop. All of my minds united for a rare moment to inform me that killing a human before the Prince was probably not a good idea, not quite an insult to the masked men but not exactly a good move either. So with reluctance I had stopped. It was strange because Sarah had not come throughout the feeding, not once had that whelp annoyed me, instead I had merely been dominated by both the feeding and Sebastian's very obvious presence. When I had turned and eyed the crimson blood glistening down his chin and neck I had been unable to resist licking it from him.

He should have thrown me off and scolded me but he had not, instead he had lapped up the blood soiling my own pallid skin with as much eagerness as I had done. It had been intimate in a fashion, after all we vampires did not come together through sex the way the Kine did, no feeding was our only real passion, our truest desire.

"We're here Malk, are you deaf?" Kent's rude voice drew at least half of my minds back to what some called reality but I was certain was maybe just a dream or a crazy game, who could say?

The taxi had stopped and I was beneath Hollywood's neon lights once more. I jumped out of the taxi hastily with a cry of delight. Kent regarded me coldly before muttering something to the driver and shutting the door. I grabbed the Toreador in a tight hug. "We're here," I squealed with delight. "Now to the Baron, you must make him take me back."

"And if I don't?" he queried testily as he tried to shrug me off and failed.

"Then I'm your problem for all eternity," I told him as I grinned up with him.

"Good threat Malk, off we go to Isaac's then. Try to be quiet though, best to let me do the talking if you really want him to be conned into taking you back."

"Conned?" I frowned as I released him at last. "He should want to take me back; you're just going to remind him why is all!"

He shrugged and carefully fixed his designer, black, leather jacket back into place. "Tomato, tomatoe," he murmured before striding on ahead of me.

I immediately linked arms with him lest he lose me on the busy streets and started skipping. I marvelled at the billboards, the flyers and posters littering the roads, the skimpy dressed prostitutes, the hopeful actors and actresses and the usual drunk college students as we walked up the cracked pavement, ah how I had missed it all. Several women who passed us by gave Kent eager looks of lust that quickly turned to giggles when I waved at them. After this had happened six times Kent gave a loud groan and halted. "Malk let go of me," he ordered, "you are really cramping my style."

"Cramping, how? I'm not sitting on it, am I standing on it?" I looked down at the ground curiously and lifted each of my feet but there was nothing there.

"Never mind just stop skipping and waving at least," he muttered.

"But people wave here," I protested, "well some do, they ones who are allergic to moonlight."

"Allergic to moonlight? What the Hell are you on?"

"They wear moonglasses," I said proudly, "that's what you call them at night, right?"

"The sooner Isaac stakes you the better," he grumbled as he pulled me on.

We reached the Cavoletti Cafe and there a vaguely familiar sight was. Dear old Samantha, only she wasn't quite how I remembered her, but then I had so many different memories... She was hunched against the short, brick walls not quite under the maroon canopy. I broke from Kent and wandered over to her, giving her a playful nudge with my shoe.

She looked up at me, pale and ghastly, her golden skin faded to a dull, yellow tinged hue, her amber eyes were dull and sunken and her brown curls were a tangle. I had thought Samantha was usually well-kept, and nicely groomed, the only way to fit in with Hollywood really. She wore a high necked, black jumper and some worn, black trousers that were stained and ripped at the bottom; her feet were bare and black with dirt. "Did you go crazy too Sam?" I queried curiously.

"Wha...what?" She stared up at me dopily before her eyes slowly started to focus. "You," she murmured quietly, "I know you don't I?" She shook her head and touched her head with her right hand. "No I don't."

"You do, you don't, I've missed this game," I said happily.

"She has definitely had one of our kind near here," Kent grumbled.

"What?" I glanced up at him curiously. "How do you know?"

"Oh come on look at her, smell her, I would bet money she's just another delirious ghoul."

"No she's not," I protested, "confused yes but no ghoul." That much I was certain about Samantha, she had no knowledge of our kind otherwise she would have figured out the mystery of me by now, well one of the mysteries.

"Ghoul?" She looked up at us weakly and gave a groan. "Who are you?" She was looking at Kent suspiciously.

"No one you need to know," he retorted moodily.

Samantha started to stand shakily, she moved slowly and with several grunts. I waited patiently until she was on her feet, leaning back against the wall for support. She was certainly weak as if she had been drained of something but was it blood or was she merely sick?

"Do you know her?" Kent asked scornfully in my ear. "Or can we hurry along here? I don't like lingering near strays."

I looked to Kent and grinned; he had visibly recoiled from Samantha and was eyeing the dirt on her dark clothes warily. "She's no stray, she has a home somewhere," I informed him brightly, "so did I once."

He frowned and shook his head at me. "Look just give her some money or something then and let's get going."

I giggled, it was always amusing to see a Toreador uncomfortable, and turned my stare back on Sam who was finally looking at me with some recognition. "I do know you, yes!" She bit her lip and a tremble escaped her as the whites on her eyes became more prominent. "He wanted me to forget you," she reached up one hand to her tangled hair and clutched it tightly, "to leave you alone. He would have..." She let out a frightened gasp. "He was going to kill me I think but someone saw, too crowded, too many people." She shook her head as tears came to her eyes. "Oh I don't know." She looked to me in horror as if begging me to somehow end her trauma.

"Who was he?" I asked the obvious question calmly.

She shook her head again as confusion took over the fear in her brown eyes. "I don't know," she mumbled, "I don't know much, I feel so tired."

"Seems like someone has either being using Dominate or some form of Dementation on this one," Kent said in a low voice that Sam could not hear.

"Wasn't me," I said swiftly. I always got blamed for everything suspicious- missing spoons, dead policemen, graffiti in The Last Round, tourists babbling about griffins, arson near the Museum of Natural History, no one ever believed that it was the elves and fairies at work, well them and the fire breathing sheep.

"Indeed," Kent grumbled, "well you won't be getting much out of her at any rate so just leave her in peace."

"Alright, alright, grumpy," I scorned back before digging into my pockets for money. I found a light up spinning top, a wooden soldier, a crumpled up leaflet for Blues Night at the Asp Hole, I had painted the tables and chairs bright blue for that evening without a word of thanks from spoilt Ash, a Pokémon card and lockpicks before I finally found some balled up notes. I put the other things back, smoothed out the notes and then handed them over to Samantha. "Go to the Red Spot and get some food," I suggested, "no Twinkies though, unicorns are addicted to them and they will skewer you with their horns to get them." I patted the money down into her palm and clenched her fingers over it. "We'll talk later."

I released Samantha's hand and turned from her vacant expression back to Kent. I then linked arms with him and smiled up at him. "Let's follow the dirt brick road to the Baron's then," I said enthusiastically.

"You must be my penance for something," Kent muttered as a cluster of sparkle wearing and shiny clothed females giggled at us.

I could see the jewellers lingering ahead, we were close now, soon the movie master and I would be reunited in a cliché embrace, he would forgive me and I could go back to slumbering with him and my voices.

"Now remember, if it's not too hard," Kent sneered sarcastically, "just keep your mouth shut and let me do the talking. I don't know if the only reason Isaac is mad with you is because you banged his ghoul or not, I'm trusting you on that, which is bloody difficult. If it turns out it's because you are a traitorous Cammy bitch then I'm only going to be too happy to hold you down while he stakes you."

"I'm not," I huffed, "I like the jester prince but I'm not a traitor." So I had exaggerated the truth a few times about the number man and the baron's special friendship but it was no lie, the alliance was there and obvious, I hadn't revealed any big secret to Seb and as for the missing Ventrue, well I had only offered speculation.

"Liking him is bad enough," Kent grumbled as he pulled me down the alleyway beside Isaac's shop. We both halted at the sight of a tall figure stepping out of the building and closing the door behind him. He immediately looked our way with keen, green eyes.

"Alex!" I exclaimed cheerfully as I released Kent and flung myself at the redheaded Toreador.

Alex caught me with surprise and embraced me lightly. "You're back then," he remarked calmly, "I thought you would be gone longer."

"Downtown is so boring," I moaned, "no one wants to play there, everyone is too paranoid about disease." I pulled back slightly to grin up at him. "Did you miss me?"

Alex's eyes were on Kent rather than me as he studied him curiously. "Isaac has been depressed without you," he admitted softly as he kept his stare on Kent, "and things have gotten dull without you around."

"Isaac is depressed," I commented with a slight tinge of what might have been guilt, "does he forgive me then? I mean really I didn't do anything wrong anyway, he was probably just grumpy because the imps keep poking him in his sleep."

"Uh huh." Alex was still distracted by Kent.

I pulled back at him and gestured to Kent carelessly with one hand. "That is the grand Kent Alan Ryan, another artsy loving emo, he's here to speak with Isaac although he's just telling him stuff he heard from me that I could tell him, I think. Or did he have his own news? Maybe we were just taxi buddies." I smiled at Kent. "Alex will tell Isaac I'm sorry, you don't have to."

"He knows who I am," Kent said stiffly and I noticed that he was looking at Alex with the closest thing a Toreador could manage to a feral gaze. "I didn't think you were in Hollywood Alexander, how long have you been around?"

Alexander? I gasped in mock alarm and looked to Alex with renewed respect. "All hail the conqueror!" I exclaimed dramatically.

He did not even glance my way. "Long enough," he said dryly, "months, a year maybe, I come and go as it suits me. Hollywood has such a wonderful display of life and there are so many budding writers and producers and directors, art is everywhere here, so much passion and devotion."

"And so much despair and letdowns," Kent added, "the tragedies of life and fiction come together in one pulsing hub. That always was your special interest, wasn't it? The great tragedies, you preferred to see how grief and horror changed people, how they coped with it."

"Even in sorrow life is beautiful," Alex retorted in his typical Toreador manner. "Beauty is everywhere Kent don't limit yourself to the shallow images of joy and rainbows, look for something deeper, look for art created by pain and suffering, entire lives poured into finishing paintings and buildings, money squandered, families forgotten all so that with one piece of creation someone might find a kind of immortality that is lost to us."

"Indeed."

"Okay," I commented as I looked from one to the other in puzzlement, "I don't really understand this art rambling, I mean finger painting is great and all, and so is chalk, which I tried to explain to his highness but he refused to see my scribbles on his wallpaper as art, anyway, I want to see Isaac. So who's going to help me explain that I'm sorry?"

"I will," Kent retorted hastily, "if only because I said I would and I have business with Isaac anyway."

"Well I'll come too," Alex retorted with a thin smile, "just in case you need extra support in persuading Isaac with anything." He turned and led the way in before Kent or I could say anymore.

I followed, humming as I did, Isaac was depressed without me, I couldn't have received better news! Well actually the dwarves could have returned my cowboy hat and I could have finally found where the phoenix's golden egg was but this news was in the top five. Even my other personalities were in a good mood, we were home, we could play now and...feed. A growl whirled around inside my stomach, low and soft for now but it would grow soon, turning into a ferocious, demanding howl. It had been a few hours now, I had drank briefly from a Downtown hooker before catching our taxi but her tainted blood was now but a bitter memory. I would need to drink soon or risk frenzying from thirst. In my excitement and eagerness I had somehow managed to forget my need for survival, how silly of me.

Isaac stood in his office, poised tall with his hands behind his back, staring at the two screens on his desk with disinterest. He looked over at Alex with mildly curious amber eyes that turned to surprise when I appeared from behind. "Surprise!" I couldn't resist.

Isaac's dazzling golden stare flickered from me to Alex to Kent and then back to me. "Good evening," he said stiffly, "has the baby-faced two-bit Prince sent you back on business?"

I was taken aback by this blunt accusation and raised a hand to my breast in sincere hurt.

"In a way," Kent spoke up before I could say anything, "which is why I am here also but that's not her real goal. The mad brat really missed you or so she claims, says she's bored and depressed without you, begged me to bring her with me back here."

I was not sure if I liked Kent's aloof and somewhat sardonic tone or not but I did appreciate his words, nice to have someone defending me, well someone that Isaac could hear, he seemed immune to the joyous cheers and vehement protests of the dust bunnies and the glowing bat eared dogs that had cheese breath.

"You're here on Prince business?" Alex queried coolly with a raised eyebrow as he stared calmly at Kent.

Kent stepped from around me and scowled. "I don't work for that stuck up asshole if that's what you are implying," he snarled, "I am an Anarch and true to the cause."

"Well what's the business then?" Isaac queried warily as he deliberately looked at Kent instead of me.

Kent spared me a glance with his steely eyes. "Missing Venture, two of them, in Hollywood," he explained bluntly.

"A male and female," I chirped up, determined to both be useful and draw Isaac's attention to me, "both blonde, he with the green eyes of a pine tree, she with grey iron, Sebby sent them here to form an alliance with the former star, the sewer lord but they disappeared."

"How long ago?" Isaac queried sharply though he stubbornly refrained from looking at me.

I shrugged. "Months maybe, I forgot, I got caught up in the lights and the music and tormenting Ash, it was all too much fun."

"It's why the smug princeling sent her here," Kent explained, "and why he's sent her again or so he thinks." He gave me a suspicious stare. "She claims it's all a cover, that she's leading him on but who knows? Maybe she is his willing whore."

A blur. I blinked hard and wondered what I had missed. Kent was lying on the floor stunned and angry with a thin trickle of crimson liquid flowing down from his lip. Beautiful, beautiful crimson, my throat felt so rough and dry, like sandpaper, my stomach was hollow and empty, a cave lonely for substance. Kindred blood, tempting but forbidden and not the fix I wanted anyway. Kent touched one black gloved finger to his lip and wiped away the blood hastily as he glared up at Isaac.

Isaac stood exactly where he had with his hands behind his back still, and his expression void of emotion. Alex was staring at him too with a mixture of awe and surprise. Had Isaac moved? Had he hurt Kent? How had I not seen that? I looked around them suspiciously certain that a mage was at work and had deceived me, blinded me with magic so that I had missed the show.

"I don't know her," Kent snarled angrily, "and she's a Malk, she could be working for anyone and not even know herself, probably has one personality serving him and the other serving you, how the Hell would you know? I believe that she believes otherwise but what the Hell is that worth? She wouldn't even remember if one of her other crazy sides was up to no good!"

Hmm now there was a thought and what a good excuse for future crimes- pardon me but it's my second personality you're looking for, my first and third are innocent of this crime. Still, I did not think it was the case, I was certain that I really was just bluffing Sebastian to an extent rather than secretly siding with him in a manner so subtle I did not even know it myself. No I liked Sebastian well enough but I was not willing to turn on Isaac for him.

"So these missing Ventrue were here to treat with Gary then," Alex mused, "but they disappeared. Funny but I don't recall any Ventrue and no one has ever mentioned any stopping through, how strange."

"Well maybe someone didn't want to mention it," Kent muttered darkly as he stood up at last and composed himself.

"Or maybe it's not just Kine who are dropping off the map," I suggested. At last all eyes on me, I was finally the star in a Hollywood production! "Just a thought," I murmured sheepishly. "I mean some of the disappearances are strange, you know that from that girl who didn't quite vanish Copperfield style, torture, maiming." Maiming, the rose! Thirst, it crippled me then, causing me to double over and let out a hungry snarl, the sight of Kent's blood had apparently quickened up my need for nutrition.

"Still not feeding properly," Isaac scorned me.

"I've been trying," I protested.

"How did you get away with that in Downtown?" Alex taunted with a teasing smile. "I'm sure the Prince wasn't happy with your frenzying."

I was tempted to confess then that the Prince was well aware of my feeding habits having experienced them up close and personal but I did not think that titbit would help with winning back Isaac. "I didn't frenzy," I grumbled.

"I'll take you to feed," Alex offered, "and make sure you don't cause anymore public spectacles."

"No," Isaac said sternly.

I looked at him eagerly, daring to hope.

"I will take her, I could do with some blood."

I let out a shrill of happiness and flung myself at him groping him hard and gripping his neck close as I pulled myself up to kiss him. He stiffened as expected but instead of shoving me off he merely fumbled to support me before gently tugging me down. "That is enough Ariadne," he said in his firm way. I knew he was secretly happy though, he was just toning it down for company. "We will go and find your supper."

I nodded eagerly, slipping my hand into his larger one and letting him lead the way out to the noisy, welcoming streets of Hollywood. Being a man of style and grace it was no surprise that he took us to the restaurant and immediately set about chatting up two youthful, slender women out in their finest silk dresses to dine with friends. Samantha was gone, hopefully in the Red Spot or a hotel and not a gutter somewhere. I felt a pang of something for leaving her but I did not know what that pang was- curiosity, guilt, reluctance, anger? Maybe even mild worry? Her probing into my existence could lead to a Masquerade violation after all and I was not so naive as to think that the Camarilla's claws could not stretch into Anarch territory.

I let Isaac do the talking, my babbling usually scared people away unless I put some effort into my Seduction skills. Isaac was naturally charming; it was easier to let him do the brunt of the work. It did not take long before he had persuaded them to tag along with us, explaining that we were members of a film production and that if they wanted they could come and see the filming first hand, maybe even be some lovely extras. My police costume only helped enforce the ruse as I nodded when Isaac told them I was a cast member.

Isaac led us down the streets, weaving smoothly past groups of students, fallen actors, desperate writers, drunken revellers, work alcoholics and the usual riffraff. After several twists and turns we were finally alone down a foreboding alleyway where no sane person would come looking. Isaac and I moved simultaneously, mesmerising them into silence with cold stares before sinking our fangs into their tender necks. I sprung onto my victim, wrapping my legs around her and forcing her to support my weight as I gripped her shoulders hard with my nails. She let out a smothered yelp before going silent as my fangs broke her skin.

Sarah again, gods wouldn't that drip go away? The named Moon Boy jeering at Samantha, laughing hysterically at her, pointing with the mockery of a drunken fool. Samantha scowling, snapping something rude at him, gripping my hand and pulling me off. I glanced back briefly at him, he seemed stranger than strange could be; there was something off about him, something Sarah had foolishly missed.

Deep into the throng of people, dancing, drinking, mingling, the music pounding through my ears, not loud enough to drown out those pesky voices though. They whispered and warned, spoke of danger and death, Sarah shook them off, ignoring them, always ignoring them insisting to herself that they would go away. Poor, naive, stupid Sarah.

A man, a tall man in her vision, gripping her hands with two ice cold ones, pulling her into a dance, forcing her, smothering down on her with his heavy presence. She could not resist, could not tear herself from his gaze or his grip, she wanted to though. She was terrified; she almost wanted to wet herself with sheer fright, this man, where had he come from? He reeked of death. I tried to force Sarah to snap out of the trance and look at him properly, I tried to see him, to take him in but it was a memory frustratingly locked to me. Moon Boy's laughter filled my head.

Isaac's gentle hands pulled me back, easing me from my trembling victim before I went too far. I looked at him, frightened for a moment, scared shitless by some stupid memory or was it just a dream, a nightmare my minds conjured and tried to claim was a memory? His amber eyes softened and he pulled me into him.

I tentatively stretched out my tongue to lick the blood spatters on his neck and weirdly he allowed me though I felt him tense up and his grip tighten as he considered pushing me back. He was too uptight to allow or enjoy anything too sexual, ironic really given how loose and racy Hollywood had become. I wondered how he even put up being near V.V, surely her sexuality had him stammering and shaking.

"Don't send me away again," I pleaded, "I won't go near your ghoul, I won't even egg Ash's club if that's what you want," Zeus knows I was praying he didn't ask that, "whatever you say, I'll be good, I'll be a bloodsucking angel, just keep me with you." I could not say why but for some reason Isaac made me calmer, without him I fretted that Sarah would devour and destroy me, trapping me in her memories forever, that I would force myself to walk in the sun out of misery and boredom, that LaCroix would succeed in brainwashing me and I would die a minion of his. I was so indecisive, too many minds competing, too many voices to listen to, it confused me but with Isaac the voices were quieter, less demanding and I knew to side with him without doubt, to always be in his bed when the sun came up instead of wandering from building to building taking sanctuary where I found it.

"You can visit Romero as you please," Isaac murmured in my ear, he spoke reluctantly, "I know you still have baser needs and you lack the emotion we Toreadors are cursed with. I was silly to think otherwise, you cannot help what you are and I will not force you to be otherwise. You are flawed but still beautiful, and I admire that, a handful yes but one I chose to take on. Just..." He paused for a moment obviously considering his words. "I am old-fashioned but I am proud of that, just wash his scent off you before you come to me and don't speak of it. I will accept that."

I nuzzled him hard then, I wished I could say that I would never go near Romero again despite having permission but I knew the freedom to do it would just encourage me, the grave guard was fun and interesting and he was deprived, I did still feel pity for him. "There was a rose," I remembered David Hatter's words, "on the girl's waist, the hat man told me." I felt my mind blurring at the edges and my vision tinged in smoke as I thought of the Hatter's words. A single thorn on a rose... "Toreador, it was a Toreador." Our nameless, faceless killer had a clan then.


	8. Chapter 8

I had slept in, how unusual for me. When I awoke Isaac was gone and I was alone in his coffin, left to stare up at the ceiling in contemplation, hoping to glimpse one of the fairies that liked to hide in the lights. I sat up with a grin, dismissing a hunger pang, and bounced out of the coffin and up the stairs, entering Isaac's office with a skip.

I halted and let out a feral snarl. A stranger! I started to bark eccentrically as I glowered at the intruder.

"Ariadne is that necessary?" Isaac asked sardonically as he spared me a scolding look.

The stranger, an elegant woman, regarded me with cold, blue eyes and a fixed smile. She looked like she belonged in the fifties, prompting me to assume that either time travel had been discovered or she was a ghost. "Where's your Delorian?" I demanded as I glowered back at her.

Ash let out a heavy groan whilst Alex snickered. The whole gang was here- Ash, Alex, V.V, Kent, Isaac and this stranger. Too much Toreador for me, I wondered how long before the art critiquing and life lamenting began. "Is it poetry night?" I queried curiously.

"No idiot," Ash retorted coldly, "this is an important meeting about some missing Ventrue, and a killer Toreador, both serious problems that have been going on a lot longer than they should have because someone forgot to mention some choice details about them."

"Who did that?" I gasped. "How silly of them!"

Ash's dark blue eyes filled with rage and he opened his mouth to protest but Isaac cut him off, not literally alas. "That's enough," he scorned. "Ariadne, this is Ginger Swan," he introduced me to the woman at last. "Ginger, this is Ariadne."

"Last name and actual identity unknown," Ash grumbled, "because she's too insane to know them."

"Oh a Malkavian?" the woman remarked in a merry Swiss accent as I immediately looked her over for feathers. "How delightful." She was tall with killer curves and the pale skin our kind had practically made a stereotype, her eyes were so dark they were black, her lips a bold, ruby red, her hair bunched tight above her in perfect, soft, golden, not ginger, curls that weaved in and out of each other in effortless waves. One beauty spot was fixed on her right cheek and I had a sudden urge to spit in my hand and wipe it off, one which Isaac must have sensed because he was quick to give me a warning glance. She was an imposing figure wearing a tight, low cut, glittering, white and cream dress from another era with a white fox stole over her shoulders and curving in at her elbows. A large diamond sat in between her breasts winking in the light, hanging about her neck on a heavy, silver chain.

"Is the fox ghost nice to you?" I queried curiously. "Or is it angry because you're wearing its skin? I suppose now that it's a ghost it's not that bothered."

Alex started to laugh whilst Ash muttered a curse and V.V rolled her eyes and sighed. "Pardon?" Ginger queried curiously as she looked to Isaac, probably for help.

"She's a Malk," Kent chirped up, "this is how she is, in fact she's worse, and that's coming from me, I've only known her a couple of days."

"Lucky you," phoenix boy commented woefully, "I've suffered her for months."

"I love you firespawn," I said sincerely. I bounced over to them and grabbed him in a hug. "And I missed you loads!"

"Ugh get off me!" Ash feigned a protest and tried to wriggle free from my grasp but I had him tight. I burrowed my head against his waistcoat and found that it made my skin itchy, interesting. "Isaac!"

"It's easier not to struggle," Alex advised him. "Seriously, don't struggle."

"Where does she come from?" I heard Ginger question.

"Downtown," Ash snarled as he continued to fight me, "she is the Prince's welp!"

"I'm not his welp," I protested indignantly. "He killed my sire and I thought it would be fun to do his bidding, that's all!" I jerked back and gave Ash my best look of protest.

"See, she admitted it!" Ash snapped. He was of course looking at everyone but me.

"Let it go firespawn," Alex said tauntingly. "We all know she started off as LaCroix's minion but only out of naivety and boredom, not loyalty."

"Minion? Hmm that's a cool word, minion, I like that," I murmured as I released Ash at last and whirled round to face Isaac. "Am I your minion Isaac?"

He had the grace to look calm as he replied, "no, don't be silly."

"You're just a pest," Ash snarled.

"A wanton seducer," V.V decided to join in the conversation with her usual flair of dramatics, "who treats emotions like toys."

"Shiny toys!" I enthused as I smiled at V.V. As usual the redhead had decided to come in her underwear, or should that be overwear since it wasn't under anything? Then if one wore trousers and tops under pants and bras did they become underwear? What a predicament.

"Anyway, enough about the Malk," Kent spoke up in a bored tone, "what about the missing Ventrue? Is there no one in all of Hollywood who has seen them?"

"No one above ground," Alex retorted sardonically.

"I think some sick killer is more important than a couple of Ventrue," V.V pouted, "the Kine are starting to notice and they're getting scared and when they are scared well...some of us lose out on business."

"All of us you mean," Ash grumbled as he shared a look with V.V. I was never sure if those two liked each other or not, as far as I could tell they only united in their dislike for me. Ash just did not seem a fan of any kind of company; it went against his faith in emo I supposed.

"Perhaps they are connected?" the falsely named Ginger Swan suggested. I stared hard at her, well her neck did look a little long and thin I supposed but there was no beak and her shoes appeared too tiny to be hiding webbed feet. Some kind of bluff or disguise?

"Perhaps," Kent remarked dryly, "something which we have all considered." His grey eyes flickered over at me prompting me to smile back at him. "A Toreador according to you," he murmured dryly. "Why a Toreador would lower themselves to such disgusting, murderous behaviour is anyone's guess but to extend their kidnapping to Ventrue? That's an act of war, only a psychotic neonate could do that unwittingly, whoever is responsible for their disappearance obviously wants to start some trouble between the Anarchs and the Camarilla. It's a miracle that all the Prince has done is send you twice to investigate."

"We know a psychotic neonate," Ash murmured but he was ignored. I seemed to be the only one who was curious about this neonate he spoke of.

"A miracle?" V.V sneered as she looked at me pointedly and folded her arms. "That wouldn't be my choice of word."

"Yes," now Ash was looking at me, I had become suddenly popular amongst the Toreadors, "why is it that his highness only thinks to send you to investigate these disappearances and even after you fail to report anything back to him he still trusts you to solve the matter?"

I shrugged. "Because I'm good at using a magnifying glass?" I suggested.

"No," Isaac argued, "it's because he knows questions would be asked if he sent anyone else, he's afraid to admit that the Ventrue were ever here because they weren't sent to treat with me but with that trumped up Nosferatu, which means if they even made it to Hollywood they were sneaking about here without permission."

"The golden one?" I pondered aloud. "Yes, the one formerly of the good looks."

"Formerly," V.V commented distastefully with a shudder. "It's hard to believe any of those sewer dwellers ever had looks."

"Or smelt of anything other than feces," Alex added helpfully.

"Still, even if LaCroix isn't ready to openly admit his lackeys were here he will if he gets a whiff of foul play," Kent pointed out. "All he needs is for someone to point the finger and say the Anarchs made them disappear and then it's war."

Isaac scowled and I felt compelled to go to him. I stood by his side, eager to hug him but restraining myself since he probably wouldn't consider it appropriate. He was a stuffy, private vampire after all and we had quite the audience tonight. "This has all been going on for long enough," Isaac said angrily, "it's time to root out these problems, or problem as it may be, we cannot rule out that our Toreador killer is the Ventrue kidnapper, if they're crazy enough to kidnap, torture and murder Kine in my territory then they are crazy enough to kidnap Kindred."

"And perhaps torture and murder them too," Alex commented darkly.

"Perhaps," Isaac remarked in obvious disgust. "So we must find them, all of us must focus hard on the Toreadors of this city, one of them is our killer and they are making a mockery of this city and me by acting so brazenly."

"Too bad Hollywood is a magnet for Toreadors," I pointed out, "with all the acting and drama that you guys love, the production sets, designing clothes and scenery, you guys lap all that art stuff up."

"She does have a point," Alex agreed, he and Isaac were the only ones not glowering at me. "There are a lot of Toreadors around here."

"But so few are insane," Ginger pointed out calmly. "I say if we investigate thoroughly it shouldn't take long to find this individual who is giving us all a bad name."

"Chances are they will screw up soon enough anyway," Kent said calmly, "as all psychos eventually do."

The dry ache in my throat had begun anew and my mind taunted me with images of sweet, red nectar. I had just risen, I needed to quench my thirst and restore my strength, soon, soon, I was so thirsty though...

"Right, well I think we get the point," Ash commented stiffly. "We are looking for a Toreador who enjoys kidnapping and killing people, if only because they are bad for business."

"And let's not completely forget the missing Ventrue, just in case they do show up or are connected to this vamp," Kent reminded with a sneering smile.

Ash shrugged before heading for the door. "In the meantime I still have a club to run," he muttered, "and since it's all I have I don't need it slipping under."

"How beautifully tragic," Alex lamented mockingly.

Ash ignored him and the protest that came from Isaac who called firespawn's name with a woeful look. I felt a tinge of something for Isaac then but I was not quite what it was- sympathy, empathy, pity?

"I should go too," V.V said as she looked at Isaac warmly, "unless there's anything else to discuss?"

"No, so far only one victim has shown up and only Mr. Hatter was a witness to that," Isaac murmured. "Apart from that we have little else to go on."

"Save for what she dragged from poor David," V.V snapped with an accusing glower at me.

"Moi? Dragged? I dragged nothing from him, I swear! We chatted that was all, it was barely a conversation! And he mentioned the rose, strange thing to notice but he noticed it, not my fault," I protested.

V.V's gaze seemed to turn colder. "You left him with nightmares he had forgotten, he's traumatised because of you."

"I don't see why, I was friendly," I said in a hurt tone. I had been friendly too to the hat maker, and we had merely chatted there had been no bloodshed.

V.V cursed and shook her head angrily before her face softened and she gave Isaac a small smile. "I will do my best to watch out for suspicious Kindred," she murmured, "and anything else that seems strange."

Isaac returned the smile and nodded. "Thank-you."

V.V nodded before exiting out into the night, probably returning to her volcano with the lava that strangely did not burn and annoyingly could not be scooped up. That left Alex, the restless Kent who shifted about on the spot, and the woman who was neither ginger nor a swan and yet claimed to be both, such a liar.

"Are there any suspects?" Alex asked quietly. "I mean I know it's only come to light that the killer is a Toreador but still, I can't think of any in town who would be that mad."

"Really?" Kent commented as he looked at Alex curiously. "They would hardly be open about it, probably a master pretender this one, a grand actor I would say, that would fit in nicely with all this, wouldn't it?"

"I suppose," Alex replied calmly as he met Kent's grey stare, "it would make sense this being Hollywood. They probably consider this their greatest performance."

"Probably."

"You two have a lot of tension," I decided that pointing out the obvious might be the first step to fixing their obvious anger towards each other, "maybe you should get rid of it with a fight or sex, whichever works for you."

"Er what?" Kent bristled and looked at me in disbelief. "Do you mean with each other?" he snarled.

I shrugged. "That could work, either way like; it could solve your issues with each other."

Ginger let out an amused giggle that had me bristling, it was so light and pretty I had to loathe it, swans hissed they did not laugh like innocent maidens in stereotype movies. I wondered then how my own laugh sounded when I heard Isaac stifle his own chuckle. Had I amused the Baron? Or had something else? Perhaps he had finally noticed the sheep in the corner with the jester's hat? I looked to him excitedly hoping to find him staring at the wonderful wool giver but his golden gaze was on Ginger.

"Hell no," Alex snapped. "Kent just lacks my appreciation for art, he's rather crude for a Toreador, it's a contradiction he takes out on everyone else."

"Appreciation for art? Really Alexander, is that what you call it? You're hardly one to frequent galleries or paint, unlike me, I paint, large, glorious canvases-"

"Oh show me!" I squealed. "Do you paint unicorns? And toasters?"

"Malk shut up," Kent grumbled.

"I think our meeting is done anyway," Isaac spoke up calmly. "To answer your question Alex, there are no suspects but the idea that it is someone who thinks this is all part of an act and that they are a great actor because they have us fooled, well that's an interesting possibility. Perhaps you should investigate near the movie sets and theatres?"

"It was my idea," Kent pointed out moodily with a frown.

"Isaac this is Hollywood, it's full of sets and theatres," Alex retorted as he scowled at Kent.

"Divide them between you then," Ginger suggested in a dismissive tone.

My stomach let out a low growl and I found salvia creeping up on my tongue as my very muscles seemed to stiffen and throb as if I were suddenly plagued with sickness or exhaustion. My dead form was already weakening, in eager need of refreshment, of life. A strange irony that we took life to live when we were in fact dead ourselves. I often wondered if I would one day meet my own ghost, if I was dead I had to have one and what a joyous uniting that would be. I hoped that I had the form of a floating bedsheet and that I was a good haunter, maybe if I was really lucky I even knew the three ghosts of Christmas, oh one could dream!

"I'm taking the theatres," Alex claimed. "Now that, that is settled it's time to feed," I felt his green stare fall on me, "Ariadne, would you like to join me?"

I smiled and nodded eagerly before looking to Isaac. "Are you coming?" I queried hopefully.

His golden stare was still on Ginger. "No," he retorted, "Ginger and I have not seen each other in a while, we need to become reacquainted."

Old friends then? I stared hard at the blonde and wondered from when and how. So many mysteries, yet no time to solve them. Since I could not pee on Isaac to mark my territory I glowered at the blonde and let out a warning growl before turning and skipping to the door.

Alex snickered before opening the door for me, allowing me to skip out into the night before him. "Jealous?" I heard him query as he followed me up the alleyway.

"Only of the butterflies, they have such lovely wings," I admitted.

"Oh so Ginger doesn't bother you then?" he taunted as he caught up to me and we walked side by side up Hollywood's busy streets. "Well I suppose you shouldn't worry, her and Isaac haven't had contact in years, that's all history."

"What's history? Your days of conquering? You died so young tragic Macedonian!"

"No. Ginger and Isaac, he's her sire, fell for her in the day, she was one of the famous stars, everyone wanted her and you know Isaac, look at Ash, clearly collecting film stars is a hobby of is. Although unlike Mr. Rivers, Miss Swan was more than a one hit wonder, she was famous for three decades before Isaac finally gave into his envy and turned her. Admirable he even waited that long, although he was young then himself."

"Fame and fortune, so bitter and sweet," I commented as I looked at the pedestrians wandering around us with bloodlust, wondering who to pick for supper or should that be breakfast? First meal of the day after all, or evening rather.

Alex chuckled. "I can tell this is a sore spot for you so I'll leave it alone but you shouldn't worry, Isaac clearly is fond of you."

I paused and stretched out my arms before me to study them before bending over to look at my legs. "I don't have any spots!" I exclaimed as I looked at Alex indignantly. Pity, I did envy the leopards theirs, how different it would be to be covered in beautiful, big, black spots.

Alex smiled and shook his head. "You wouldn't suit spots, now where do you want to go? I'm thinking Ground 0 since Ash and V.V probably wouldn't be too happy to see us in their clubs and the last time I fed on someone shopping in the Red Spot I felt strangely...lightheaded."

I shrugged. "To this lowdown building of knowledge then," I agreed. My thirst was growing and growing, I did not care whose hot blood I stole just as long as obtained some soon. We headed towards the internet cafe; Alex shooting charming smiles at would be singers, actresses and students who passed us by. I settled for trying to look out for goblins and the dwarf thieves instead. I crouched and tried obfuscating myself, that usually made those wonderful voices clearer, perhaps I would be able to eavesdrop on the half-sized mischief makers. I heard the whispers of the night come in a confusing collection- females, males, children, adults, pensioners, some speaking English others foreign languages, some mystical and some ancient. It was hard to sift through them trying to find ones of importance, and I was happier just to enjoy the conversing.

The Ground 0 cafe loomed beside us, it was part of a chain of old-fashioned two storey houses made from cement and marble with fancy columns and hourglass shaped railings on the second floors and multiple arches around windows encased behind iron bars. It had obviously not been designed as an internet cafe, a fact made further obvious by the cheap sign- a dirty white banner slung between the floors with Ground 0 painted on it in lime green with a line below it and the words 'Internet cafe and gaming centre' foolishly dabbed on in white making them almost impossible to see. I wondered how hard it would to climb up there and steal the banner; it would be a welcome addition to Isaac's bedroom, something to hang above the coffin.

Alex gave me a nudge knocking me out of my obfuscating. "Come on, try to act a little normal," he implored. He opened the glass doors and we strode in. The cafe looked like an office, with computers lined up on desks against the walls and in cubicles of four in the middle of the room. The floor was chipped marble tiles, the ceiling cheap Styrofoam with flickering bars of light and the walls a thin layer of plaster that was evidently easy to carve into.

The place was busy enough with geeks, students, inquisitive journalists and people who were either bored or too poor to have their own internet connection. Some poor employee was caged behind fishnet wire, passing out coffee to one young woman. I had an urge to free him but Alex must have sensed that because he quickly clamped a hand down on my shoulder and steered me towards the small group of students in the back left corner.

I paused before we neared them, whipping my head round to face the back of a quivering woman hunched over a keyboard. Dark brown curls, a worn black jumper... Before I could speak her name a fresh pang of thirst raced through me, damn this was getting repetitive! Why were my urges always so strong? Hmm perhaps it was because I had so many within me to satisfy with it, yes that made sense. I shook off my blood haze, certain that it was important to identify this woman but before I could she turned round. Her golden-brown eyes filled with horror and her lip trembled.

"You!" she rasped a little too loudly.

"Sure it's me?" I queried mockingly as I smiled back at poor Samantha.

"You, oh God, oh God, I don't want to die, I don't want to die," she babbled hysterically drawing unnecessary attention to us.

"Die?" I echoed curiously. "Why are you dying?"

"You," she continued to babble. "I don't know why, it is you though but you don't or won't remember!"

"Ariadne maybe it's time for some hallucinating hmm?" Alex suggested in a low voice.

Samantha clutched her tangled curls and shook her head with a groan. "Please leave me alone, I won't bother her, I won't bother anyone." She stood up suddenly, pushed us violently and fled for the doors. I looked to the screen she had been sitting before; there was a newspaper article on it with a black and white picture of someone, someone who looked oddly familiar. The article was titled- 'Missing Woman Vanished From Club', I scanned it quickly and noted the line 'Sarah Grey, twenty-year-old art student, was at The Asylum in Santa Monica with friend Samantha Stone but went missing around half twelve, witnesses recalled her dancing with several men beforehand and Samantha reported to police that they had been harassed by a tall, male blonde wearing sunglasses.'

"She's going to lead you to a Masquerade violation," Alex commented darkly.

I pointed to the screen in awe with one finger. "That's me," I murmured.

Alex extended a hand to the mouse and immediately clicked off the screen and switched off the computer, using that unnatural Toreador speed of his. "Forget it," he warned me, "it doesn't matter who you were, you are Kine no more." He gripped me with one hand, turning me round to face him. "You need to get rid of her," he said quietly, "before the Camarilla decide things are too dangerous and get rid of you both."

I shook Alex's grasp off and frowned. "Wasn't me who attacked her and gave her nightmares," I commented sulkily, "that was some other Kindred."

Alex touched one finger to his brow and sighed. "Come on, she's drawn too much attention to us here, let's go."

I noticed then that everyone in the Internet cafe was still looking our way in worry and suspicion. So much for drinking from a web surfer, I was so thirsty though... Santa Monica, The Asylum, I tried to recall it but nothing sprung to mind. Was I from this Santa Monica then? Was Samantha? I followed Alex out, struggling to keep up with him. Samantha's hysterics had put him in a mood; he was angry and troubled now.

"Relax," I tried to calm him as I struggled to match his pace, "she's crazy that's all, no one will believe her rantings."

"No," Alex paused to glare at me, "you're still young, you don't understand, the Camarilla are everywhere Ariadne, if they think you are making a Kine suspicious of Kindred then you're in violation of their laws and they will do what they have to. Never mind them even, it's not good for us Anarchs either if Kine start sniffing around. She's too risky, she suspects too much."

Another growl echoed from my stomach then and a redness took over my vision briefly. When it cleared I noticed Alex giving me an odd look before he turned from me swiftly. "Come on, we need to drink," he said. He glanced about the streets and sniffed the air briefly before leading me on.


	9. Chapter 9

_The smell of the sea filled my nostrils and I could feel the waves lapping at my ankles, threatening to soak through my boots. I was cold and frightened with no memory as to how I had come here._

"_Can't you do that elsewhere?" A voice, male and Australian. "This is the only safe turf we have, don't draw attention to it."_

"_Mind your own Thin Blood," a male retorted in a hiss._

"_Ccc...come on...we...we just ddddon't want any trouble," another man stuttered. "Ppplease."_

"_I can't do this here with you snivellers, you're ruining the ambience," the angry male grumbled. "I wanted this to be beautiful, perfect," he murmured, I thought to me, "here beneath the moon amongst the waves." He sighed and I felt a hand at my chin, turning my head and bearing my throat up. "It will have to do."_

_Pain roared through me, screaming from my throat down the rest of my body, poison in my veins, my chest aching, suffocating, heart slowing, struggling for air, for life... A fire raging at my throat as my blood slipped out, guzzled greedily by someone, something. My knees quivered, I felt so weak, so helpless._

"_What are you doing?" the Australian again. "We don't need bodies appearing here!"_

"_Pplllease we'll ggget blamed!"_

"_You won't!" the male snarled. "Just shut up already! You are ruining everything!" Eyes staring deeply into me, willing me to be calm, telling me I was safe... The waves were not cold anymore; they soothed me as they splashed up towards my knees. The moon so beautiful, a large, white orb casting its soft stolen light upon us... Yes this was nice..._

I jerked back from my vision in a daze, wondering what had happened to me on that beach, who my attacker had been and those yuppies who had tried to interfere...Thin Bloods, I knew that term, Sebastian had grumbled about it, called them pests to be exterminated, upstarts who made Kindred afraid of a non-existent Apocalypse, Gehenna. Witnesses...

I could smell blood, it was thick, strong and still warm, I looked down and found myself soaked with it. Fearful and concerned, I looked up slightly and recoiled instantly. A body, a form with its chest practically torn out, ravaged and mauled at... Had I done that? I looked at it and a whimper escaped me. Everything else was still intact except the throat, which had been ripped out. I had frenzied again but this was no nameless victim... I stood up shakily and looked around; I was in what appeared to be a hotel room, small with a single bed, a television on a cabinet of drawers beside a telephone, a wardrobe and a door presumably to a bathroom. The front door was open behind me, swinging slowly in the wind; I must have forced my way in.

I staggered back from the corpse, the floor around it was soaked in blood, too much blood...such a waste, such a terrible waste. How could I have done this? My only lead, my only link to my past was dead, why? She had never bothered me, only amused, had some other side of me felt afraid of the past she had tried to confront me with, maybe even angry about it? I could not remember coming here, I had been with Alex, I had been thirsty, so thirsty. Had I abandoned him? Had he left me? His words, he had mentioned Masquerade violation, had I panicked at that thought? It did not seem like me.

Samantha, poor, poor Samantha. I had to leave, couldn't be caught like this with a corpse. I turned quickly, shut the door behind me and threw myself from the balcony onto the ground floor. I knew this place; it was the Luckee Star Motel, not so lucky now alas. More misfortune for the hat man, well hopefully his mind had already been polluted by mercury.

I staggered to the main door and opened it. Mr. Hatter looked to me with surprise before his eyes turned to horror. "See nothing hat crafter," I told him a warning tone, "nothing but the fire bugs flying round, round and round your head."

He panicked, squealed and started swatting madly at the air. I reached for the front door, hoping that he would forget me in his sanity; I did not need Velvet whining at me about him again. I opened the handle, then crouched and thought myself invisible. As it was Hollywood I probably could wander about soaked in blood and no one would blink an eye but once the body was found, well best not to leave a questionable trace in case people wondered if the blood soaked extra maybe hadn't been an extra after all.

I struggled to move, one bump into someone and my cover would come undone, I had never been much good at obfuscating, dementation was a much easier skill to master. Left, right, round in circles, zigzagging, it was a fun little journey in its own way but one I found hard to appreciate. The jewellery store eventually appeared within my vision, all that pirate booty, what a welcome sight.

I ducked down the alleyway, stood upright and opened the glittering door. Isaac would console me; somehow he would find sense in my madness and stop me from considering throwing myself out to the sun. What had I done? Who was Sarah Grey? A beach, was it a dream, a nightmare or a memory? Why was I plagued every time I fed? Should I have damned the Masquerade and questioned Samantha? Too late now, too late, too many thoughts, too many conflicting memories, too much, far too much.

I halted in the doorway; I could hear laughter from the next room, sweet, feminine laughter that belonged in a black and white movie about charming virgins, mixed with some bouncy music from decades ago. I headed forward through the office, leaving the side door open to the mercy of the mild wind. I considered obfuscating again but went for stealth instead, opening the door slowly and quietly to Isaac's living room, or should that be dead room?

Isaac and Ginger were in the centre of the room in a close embrace, twirling and dancing to music coming from a gramophone. I had shone a torch down there once, confident that it was the portal to some mystical land but I only got my head stuck for my troubles.

"Oh it's been so long since I heard such music!" Ginger marvelled.

Isaac let out a soft laugh. I was shocked by how at ease he was with her, this the stiff, posh Baron who would not loosen up for anyone, not even me. Yet here he was, daring to smile and happy to dance. He had never danced with me, not even when I had begged him to do the cancan near The Fast Buck. He was happy, though his brow was still wrinkled thanks to earlier grievances, he was definitely happy.

Cursed swan I would steal her eggs! Not now though, I could not focus on that now, I could not think of anything except to leave. Isaac was dancing; he would not want to know about my memories, my nightmares... I had killed my past, it was dead, she was dead and I was a thing without memory, what an error... No Sarah, Sarah was dead, Samantha was dead, only Ariadne but who was that?

I moved through the night, clinging to the alleyways and the shadows, giving the whispering frightened hobos and bag ladies a ghoulish smile, let them see the blood, no one would even think to question them. On and on I walked, pausing only when I heard a strange sound, a muffled scream, and a grunt. I turned and followed it in time to see a metal sewer lid being dragged over. What had I missed going down there? The rat king? Some enthusiastic shit explorer? A drunken hobo? A Nosferatu?

"Wendy? Wendy! Bitch where did you go?" a drunken woman called. "Drunk ejit!" She was getting closer now, coming round the corner. There were other voices with her, drunk patrons, I must be behind the Asp Hole. Time to go before I was spotted. "Wendy!"

I fled, letting my body take me where it pleased. I did not know where to go or what to do, I could only hope that some pixies would come to guide me, help me through my unravelling minds. On and on, over pavement, over dirt, down streets, through a hole in a wall...

"You have to learn to knock! I damn near blew your head off again! Shit what have you been doing? Overfeeding much?"

I looked up warily, coming back to some sense of reality at the voice. "Crypt keeper," I murmured as I stepped in and sank to my knees. "Would you be bothered if I said I had killed someone?" I queried curiously.

"Not really," he said calmly as he lowered his gun at last, "that's what you lot do after all."

I smiled. "Yes." A shudder escaped me. That was what we did if we wanted to lose our humanity and descend into a madness only the Sabbat appreciated. I did not want that though, I did not want to lose my humanity or my memories, I knew it was dangerous to crave the past but I had to know, I had to have answers, didn't I? It was crowded in my head, voices that couldn't all have an identity, to give one of them the name of Sarah would just make the others jealous surely.

"So er...what are you doing here?" Romero asked as he stepped past me to close the door.

"You like me don't you?" I questioned. "You will let me stay?"

"Sure, I guess," he muttered, his green eyes with just a hint of unease. "Although, it's a little out of the blue."

"I wanted company," I admitted as I looked up at him and stood up at last, "and you're lonely, you like company."

"I suppose." I could see he was not happy to be called lonely but I knew it was true, it was there in his pale eyes, oh yes he was passionate about his shooting, it was a pleasure for him not a job but he got so bored in his shack, he was not a man designed to be a hermit. "Although if you are staying, maybe you should get that blood off you," he suggested, gesturing at me with one hand.

I glanced down at myself; Samantha was all over me, in me, twisting and turning in my veins, choking me vengefully from within. I clutched at my chest tightly, trying to subdue her, she was all over me. "Yes," I said hastily, "this needs off." I needed to be clean again, not just to avoid questions but to be rid of Samantha once and for all. Once and for all...oh gods and demons how true that was, unless her ghost came for me Samantha was gone from this world. I shuddered.

"Well the bathroom's to the left there," Romero said as he pointed. He was keeping his distance from me but it wasn't disgust, although I did not think he wanted to touch the blood. No it was fear, a strange sort of fear and not of me either.

"Isaac said it was alright," I told him as I looked carefully at him. There, a flicker of an outraged Isaac, there had been yelling in this quaint shack, much yelling. Romero was paler than usual and a thin coat of sweat was on him, his eyes were sunken a little, oh dear, Romero had not had his usual blood fix.

"He understands what I don't," I tried to explain with a helpful smile. I raised my wrist to my fangs and bit hard, breaking the skin and bringing up some of my blood, polluted with Samantha's. Yes let it all bleed out, get it from me, I would vomit some of it soon too, I could feel my stomach churning, rejecting the blood of my last tie to humanity, to Sarah. Though half my minds were not the least bit bothered and viewed Samantha as prey like any other, another disposable blood bag, the strong half were troubled by what had happened. Were there no limits when the thirst came?

"You can have some of my blood," I offered as I held my wrist out.

Romero's eyes sparked with a disturbing hunger, one I had never thought to see in Kine and I could hear his heart skipping a beat. He had gone too long without our potent blood, punished because of Isaac's jealousy. Now I would reward him because of mine I supposed and because I felt some guilt at his predicament though I maintained that Isaac had overreacted. He closed his eyes and shook his head. "No, he wouldn't...approve." He forced himself to smile and opened his eyes once more. "Go and bath, it's fine, you're welcome here even if...even if he's angry about it."

"He's not," I assured but I lowered my wrist anyway and turned from the caretaker. I headed through the door on the left, opening and shutting it behind me and gripping the string cord to turn on the light. It was small like the rest of the shack but equipped with a clean bath, complete with a shower head, hanging at a bad angle, a toilet, a single radiator and a window, a thin, rectangular one set high up so that no one could nosy in I supposed, although I doubted it would stop the giants, fey or ghosts. I put in the plug and turned on both taps, it did not matter to my cold flesh if the water was icy or hot.

I would rid myself of Samantha, yes, wash her from skin and mind. Go away Sam, go away... I slumped to the floor and doubled over as my stomach gave into one of the voices' demands to spit up the poison. I heaved and up came a fountain of cold, scarlet blood, it spattered onto the cracked tiles and my eyes went wide. Sweet nectar, life giving liquid, this was supper a voice argued! I could not waste it! I fell to the floor, tongue out and lapped hard at it, smearing it into the cracks, no! I argued with my other halves, this was Samantha's life giving liquid, this was part of her, if I drank it, if I kept it in me then she would be there tormenting me, she would join the voices and bring back that idiotic, annoying Sarah. She would never leave me alone; she would get annoyed that she had been right all along, that she had known me. No, it had been fun when I could leave her but if she was forever in me it would only become irritating.

Out, out!

I don't how long I must have been there ranting with my numerous personas, simultaneously throwing up blood and licking it up again. It must have been longer than I realised, I did not keep watches in case certain rabbits stole them, because there was water sloshing around me when the door opened.

Isaac looked down at me with puzzled, scolding gold eyes, looking from me to the bath and then back to me again. Romero peered around him and muttered a curse. "My fault for leaving a Malk alone," he commented calmly, not as annoyed as some Kine might have been.

Isaac stepped up to the bath carefully and turned off the taps; he then turned back to Romero and nodded. "Thank-you for calling, tell Ginger she should go on."

Romero nodded and shut the door hastily.

"You brought the bird," I grumbled moodily.

Isaac's eyes flashed with anger as he looked at me. "I was with Miss. Swan when Romero called to say you were here and she accompanied me, yes."

"Why did he call? Did you tell him you were fine with us? Or did you make him squirm?" I laughed happily at the word 'squirm' it was such a fun word, an improvement on squid anyway.

Isaac frowned. "I told him I neither approved nor disapproved of your relationship and that I wanted no knowledge of it," he informed me stiffly. "He was concerned though, or he simply did not believe me, and insisted I come. It's why I am fond of him as a ghoul, he has an interesting personality, quite beautiful in its way, and he is an excellent marksman."

I shrugged and a trickle of blood slipped out of my lips and down my chin. My stomach twisted again, some of Samantha was still in me then, out Sam, damn you Sam! I leaned forward and threw up again. It was making me thirsty though, she had been my only kill tonight, I needed her blood.

"And just why are you making a mess of yourself and my ghoul's bathroom?" Isaac inquired haughtily as he looked at the floor in dismay.

"To get rid of the poison," I explained, "but it tastes so good, too good, too hard to resist, I couldn't but I should have."

"What do you mean Ariadne?" he queried warily.

I gave him an annoyed look then. "I didn't ask for you to come scold me," I huffed, "go away if I'm boring you." I did not mean it of course but I did not want a lecture, Isaac was not fun when he was playing parent or teacher. I wanted him to soothe my mind in the way that only he could without even meaning to, I wanted my thoughts to fade back to their bearable level, I wanted Samantha and Sarah erased. I had erased them though, hadn't I?

"Boring? Not quite the word I would use," Isaac grumbled. He stepped towards me, halting and wincing when his expensive leather shoes were forced to tread in blood. I heard him kneel down and suddenly we were eye level. "What happened?" he questioned quietly. "Whose blood is this?"

"A memory's, a friend's? Samantha, poor Sam, always trying to meddle, getting too close to the truth, endangering Kindred, the masked men should reward me." I cackled. "I didn't mean to though, it all went dark and red, and then there I was, in her room, she was dead... It was a mistake, I think, perhaps a necessity but..." I shook my head and went for the bath, forcing my head down into it. I needed to be clean! The water was lukewarm and refreshing; I tried to blow bubbles vainly before my head was pulled back by Isaac's tight grasp.

"I want to be clean," I murmured as I pushed my damp hair back so I could face Isaac. "I want her off me and out of me; she'll suffocate me if I don't."

"Right." He weaved one hand through my tangled damp locks and smiled sadly. "You and that mad mind, such a beautiful tragedy, still I do adore you for it." He raised his other hand and began to unbutton my black shirt. I allowed the Baron to undress me and lift me into bath, though part of me was tempted to splash him I resisted and stayed obediently still as he lifted a sponge and started to wash me. "Sometimes I wonder why I put up with you," he confessed, "but then I am reminded of how you excite me and bring an odd joy to this place. It's strange but you are the first to make me feel this way but I find it hard to enjoy because it is a weakness and it does pain me. I am the Baron, I have a reputation to keep up and a domain to run, life would have been easier if we had never met."

"Do you regret me coming here?" I queried as I stared hard at his golden eyes trying to spy something in them. They were full of emotion as all Toreador eyes were but it was hard to decipher the most prominent of them, I could see pain there but I thought that it was mingled with affection.

He studied me then for a few minutes of silence, well almost silent, Romero's elves had plenty to chitter about. Then he leaned into me and gave me a fleeting kiss, still too old-fashioned and proper to offer something deeper. "No," he answered as he rang out the sponge and placed it down.

I leapt from the bath lithely, splashing water everywhere much to Isaac's obvious chagrin. I quickly dried off but I could not put on my clothes, they were still covered with Samantha dearest. I frowned, sniffing the blood tentatively and then salivating, I needed blood, yes soon, now.

"It will be sunrise soon," Isaac pointed out flatly as he stood up and tried in vain to brush the water from his suit. "We need to leave." He took off his brown blazer and handed it to me. I accepted eagerly, pulling it on and hugging it close, I always liked the stuffy smell of Isaac's clothes. My vision danced red and my stomach let out a growl, a frenzy was close approaching. Blood, blood, blood, a mantra in my head, a call through my many minds.

I felt hands pushing me out, words muffled in the air, the squeal of goblins and the jeering of the fey.

"Let her feed on you."

Flesh, close to my mouth, oh blood, beautiful blood, I could smell it, hear it pulsing just below the skin, so close, so tantalising. I grabbed the arm tight in both hands and sank my fangs deep into the skin, gulping down the nectar that immediately spilled out.

"_As if one creep wasn't enough," ah sweet Samantha still alive in my head at least, "now there's another one looking over here." I turned to see the creep but they were lost in the shadows, someone tall. Moonboy's laughing._

_My neck throbbed, my head spun and I wanted to wretch, I felt so weak, so tired and sore. I sat up slowly and immediately vomited. Hangover? I reached to my neck subconsciously and felt something damp. When I pulled my hand down I found it soaked in blood. I groaned and slumped as mad laughter filled my ears._

"_Found you! Found you! He took you! He stole you!" a madman yelled. "I will have you, the jackals said I would!" Fresh pain in my neck, horrible pain, something being sucked out of me, my life slipping away. I screamed but it was to no avail._

_A door being opened, banging against the wall, strangers charging in, a stake in my chest before I could offer a protest..._

"Enough Ariadne! Enough!" Isaac's firm grip pulled me back and up from a Romero who was on the ground, eyes closed and clearly in a daze. I licked my lips, savouring the taste of his tangy blood. I wanted more and let out a hungry snarl. "Enough," Isaac snapped in a manner so fierce it invoked a whimper from me. "It's time to go." He pulled me from the shack then and moved us through the night like a whirlwind. Hollywood passed by in a blur as we moved too fast to be noticed by the throng of drunken revellers.

The sky was growing lighter now, turning mauve and lilac, my flesh tingled, wary of the rising sun and my muscles stiffened, I was tired now. We reached the jewellery store in no time, slowly only once we were in the building. Isaac shut and locked the door and headed down to the basement wordlessly. I followed with an eager skip, leaping into his coffin after he climbed in and landing on him with a pleased grunt. He said nothing, just drew down the lid and closed his eyes in slumber.

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><p><em>Many thanks to all my reviewers, special shout out to Just Me since I can't reply to your comments, they are very much appreciated though :-)<em>


	10. Chapter 10

The group of fashionably dressed poets and artists had assembled once more in Isaac's abode, looking as moody and tortured as ever. Only Ginger kept a smile on her face, an attempt to lighten the atmosphere perhaps, though her teeth sadly did not glow and so her efforts were wasted.

"They were taken from outside my club!" Ash snarled. "Now the place is crawling with hunters, I had to sneak away. Although I'm not sure a confrontation with them really would bother me, perhaps I can end it all with them in a blaze of glory."

"Or just wind up with a messy end becoming a literal pile of ash," Kent sneered.

"Ash," Isaac looked at him with a tender gold gaze.

Ash stared back coldly. "What's the point?" he lamented. "I'm a star reduced to running a club and now even that is under threat."

"What was her name?" V.V queried curiously. "Were there any clues?"

Ash shrugged carelessly, putting on his usual air of contempt. "Her friends say she disappeared behind the club, down an alleyway, they don't know how and they didn't see anyone near the area or find any trace of her. They said she was too drunk to have wandered far on her own but who knows?"

Ah now why did this sound familiar? "Maybe Peter Pan took her?" I suggested. "Hmmm forever young and he can fly, is he Kindred? He is isn't he? Can I go to Neverland then?" I squealed excitedly.

I got the usual eye roll from Alex, whose gaze I been avoiding until now, the typical dismissive glower from V.V and the 'what the Hell is wrong with you' glance from Kent. Ash was looking at me suspiciously though, now what was firespawn going to accuse me of this time? Trading thimbles for shadows? Imploring fairies to kidnap girls? Ah was Tink one of the fey that whispered to me then? Yes that would make sense, perhaps it was what they wanted me to do, to find Peter and fly to Neverland and fight pirates.

"Her name was Wendy," Ash stated flatly, "but how could you know that?" Everyone was looking at me questioningly now.

"Will I get a million dollars if I answer?" I queried hopefully.

"Ariadne what do you know?" Isaac demanded softly.

"Down a sewer, taken, too quick for me," I mused.

"Nosferatu," V.V muttered with disgust.

"Must be," Alex was quick to agree, "what self respecting Toreador would go down a sewer?"

"One trying to throw the dogs off the scent," I suggested merrily with a smile.

Kent shuddered. "Wouldn't be worth it," he commented sincerely. "All that filth, the stench, the rats and worse, you might run into those ugly bastards."

"Either way the Nosferatu must know something if our killer entered their domain," V.V said confidently.

"Unless it was a once off retreat to avoid being spotted by Kindred," Kent retorted as he flickered his grey gaze over at me and then Ash. "Perhaps they sensed Ariadne or Ash nearby, panicked and fled down a sewer."

"Can't be one of us then," Alex said with fresh conviction, "we're known for our speed, not our hiding."

"A false trail set," I remarked gleefully, "a cunning foe, a trickster with a grudge for Nosferatu?"

Isaac looked at me carefully and made a 'hmm' sound before speaking. "Well Hollywood has been searched and no one's found any mad Toreadors or any mad Kindred for that matter."

"Even King's Way was clean," Alex muttered. "Such a trek to get up there."

"Hardly for one of us, lazy," Kent scorned him.

"So either our killer is very good at hiding or they must have their domain in the only place we haven't looked," Isaac commented, "the sewers."

I giggled as the Toreadors shuddered at the thought of their precious hair and clothes becoming stained in the sewers. Such prim things these Kindred were, they missed out on so much in their attempt to stay clean. Down there were rat kings, goblins, lost ninja treasure and the lost trail of the Pied Piper and his kidnapped brood, the sewers were a maze that put Jareth's kingdom to shame, Ali Baba's cave was probably down there somewhere and if one went deep enough, perhaps they might find an entrance to Atlantis. I trembled with excitement when one of my voices reminded me of the rose. The deliberate mark of the Toreador. "Why would the Toreador leave his mark on the body?" I wondered aloud. "They want us to know their clan and yet now they want to deceive us with parlour tricks beneath sewer rims."

"Or the rose was the trick," Alex suggested, "to fool us into thinking that the killer was a Toreador when it's a crafty Nosferatu after all."

I did not think so, in the hat man's mind it had been an exquisite work of beauty amongst the gore with extreme attention to detail, the kind only an artist would possess and whilst perhaps some Nosferatu might have been an artist in life, only a Toreador would possess the discipline to sit and carve such detailed work onto someone's flesh.

"That would seem more likely, that or you imagined the whole thing," Ash sneered at me, "and led us on a wild goose chase."

"Goose chase? Where is this goose? Why haven't we caught it yet?" I demanded. "Is it the golden goose? Can we take its golden eggs or will people stick to its feathers?"

"Oh Malk," Kent groaned, "you really are mad. You probably did imagine the rose." He looked to Isaac imploringly. "So, are we to search the sewers then? You know how difficult that will be."

"I can't," Ash spoke up quickly, "the hunters are already suspicious of me, if I try to leave my club again, especially to go down a sewer of all things, then they will be convinced."

"Oh but I thought you were ready to go down in a blaze of glory?" Alex taunted him.

"It would be fitting for you dead phoenix," I enthused.

"Ash is right," V.V spoke up, "the hunters are in my club too, it is becoming difficult to escape them without detection and I fear all they are doing in eliminating their suspects and drawing the net closer."

"Well if these killings don't stop then the hunters will only grow more numerous and more eager to take action," Ginger Swan pointed out with a stern glance about the room.

"Will the pretty swan glide down the sewers?" I queried curiously. "You could probably swim better down there than the others."

Isaac gave me a glower and frowned, I merely smiled back at him. I thought it was a valid point, swans were strong swimmers and there was a lot of water in the sewers, murky water with kelpies lurking underneath ready to pull unsuspecting Kindred down for dinner. "We will all go," he ordered, "if it is the Nosferatu at work then they must learn that the Baron of Hollywood is not one to be trifled with so easily."

"It's too dangerous," V.V whined, "and filthy, and who will look after things here if we all go underground?"

"It's probably what the Nosferatu want," Kent reasoned, "it could be a trap. What if they and the Prince are in cahoots, what if they did take the Ventrue on his majesty's orders so that the Anarchs could be framed and blamed for it? I agree Isaac that the sewers need to be investigated, especially if the most recent victim was taken into them but we can't all go."

"Are you volunteering?" Alex queried brightly.

"How about you two go?" Ginger suggested. "You are a formidable pair and some teamwork might suit you."

Both of them scowled at the blonde whilst I had to privately agree with her, loathe as I was to. Alex and Kent were cute together and so very amusing.

"I like that plan," V.V agreed with a wide smile and a chuckle.

Ash nodded as well. "Me too, you two go and V.V and I will continue to watch the streets."

"I thought you were occupied with hunters in your club?" Alex questioned dryly. "Couldn't risk leaving and all that?"

Ash maintained a cool expression as he answered calmly, "well yes but it is club goers who are the most likely to become victims, they are vulnerable and out at night."

"He's right," V.V said cheerfully, immune to Alex and Kent's heavy scowls.

"I will see you both rewarded for it," Isaac promised.

"There's no killer with the sewer rats," I murmured, "well no artistic killer, Ventrue maybe but no rose petals."

"Well since you can't suggest any other path to follow it's the best we can do," Ash snapped at me. "Though I think you're wrong about the killer being a Toreador, in fact I think you still warrant suspicion. It was probably you who made the Ventrue disappear on LaCroix's orders."

"Ash," Isaac spoke up warningly, "that is enough."

Ash shrugged. "Well I am returning to what is left of my club though my patrons are fewer now, there is so little left for me to enjoy." He turned in his usual dramatic manner and headed out the door.

"I'm going to feed," I decided. The night was growing late and I was growing thirstier, I had supped briefly on a young male's neck with Isaac earlier in the night but that seemed like nights ago now. Besides, I had grown bored with the conversation and the Toreadors' blindness, they were simply to proud to think so lowly of one of their own. Silly peacocks, even dearest Isaac was happier to accuse the ugly sewage masters than one maddened artist.

"Do be careful about it," Kent drawled.

"Do you want company?" Alex asked.

I looked to him and shook my head, after Samantha I did not think I wanted to hunt with the redhead for a while. I still could not recall how I had left his side and gone to murder poor misguided Sam but I remembered his words, his warning of the Masquerade, he had planted the idea in me though much as I racked about my minds looking for pot and seed I could not find them.

Alex looked dismayed and hurt shone in his green eyes, it was a slight he would recover from though.

"Watch out for overgrown pet crocodiles and mutant goldfish," I warned them both happily before escaping into a cool Hollywood night.

I went to the Red Spot first, hoping to lure some shopper away but their minds were too foggy for my Dementation to penetrate and when I caused one to hallucinate bunnies he did not seem disturbed by it. I frowned, sometimes I enjoyed competing with their already riddled minds but tonight I was feeling lazy. I contemplated going to The Asp Hole to bug Ash but considered after last night's disappearance that the customers there would probably be fewer. The Vesuvius would probably have more Kine to choose from but I usually got thrown out of there for trying to play in the lava and the dancers never wanted to do any fun dance moves like the conga or the Macarena.

So I wandered, not far, pausing outside that delightful Italian restaurant. I lingered near, waiting patiently for some rich customer to leave so that I could satiate on their warm, pulsing blood. People who had recently dined and drank always tasted better, their blood was somehow more energetic even though they were relaxed, and it was flavoured with richness, tingled with the sugars and spices they had savoured.

As I waited my eyes were drawn to the towering Chinese theatre across from me. It had been abandoned for a while now, its formidable, gold gates and red circle and gold sun patterned walls a deterrent to the Kine but not to sweet old me. The theatre was an uncomfortable point of topic for Isaac, he had grumbled about some unwanted mischief within it and some limbs lost on account of it but he refused to go into details alas. I wondered if perhaps I might find a box of limbs within, and maybe something more. It was enough of a deterrent to keep most Kindred away but naturally that just encouraged my curiosity and I found myself creeping towards it.

I wrapped my fingers about the golden bars and leaned close, peering up at the dark building with its curved jade rooftops, red columns and neglected, dying trees. The single visible window had a faint glow coming from it, though it was hard to see beneath the strands of wild ivy. Perhaps a fire demon within or maybe a pixie? I grinned and slinked off round the side, this was certainly enough to interest at least three of minds.

Of course I had considered exploring it before but been ordered away by Isaac and cautioned by Alex, who had muttered something about 'those damn Tremere', was magic at work here then? Spells, potions and warlocks? Was I witnessing the glow of the vapours of a cauldron? How delightful! I looked along the wall for a gap I could slink through or a foothold and was delighted when I found a chip near the back, enough for my foot to step into, with another above for a hand to grasp. So with effort I boosted myself onto the top of the wall, then hurried along it, springing on the roof lithely like a magnificent cat burglar.

"Meow!" I purred enthusiastically before I attempted to manoeuvre down. Then all grace was lost as I slipped on a loose tile and tumbled down the roof, falling through the window with an impressive crash. Glass shattered loudly on the floor and I barely had time to right myself on the balcony I had landed upon before a loud thud told me I was not alone.

There, just below was a mighty giant of stone with a monkey face, and a helmet with long ears and spikes. Fancy having to carve ears into your helmet, was it compensating for something?

"Who trespasses?" it snarled. "Invader I will crush you!" It turned its head up towards me, proving that apparently stone did have a sense of smell. It just proved that my pet rock did have feelings after all, just as I had always claimed.

I stood up and dusted myself down before looking at the towering behemoth, was this a gargoyle then? But where were its wings? This thing was dressed in samurai armour made of stone, a welcome sight but somehow disappointing. "Er I come in peace?" I called backed quietly. This guy looked a little big to be challenging and a three legged crow who had taken up residence in the rafters cawed a warning at me.

"Peace? You kind does not know peace! Always scheming, lying, you are a curse on this earth!" He swung his fist and I found myself crashing to the floor as half of the balcony was obliterated beneath me. I mustered all of my Obfuscating strength as I struggled out from the splinters and rubble just as the fist came down again, missing me by inches but ruining my failed attempt to hide.

"I swear I've no qualms with you stony!" I tried to reassure him. "I'm just an innocent explorer! A theatre lover like you, can't we be friends?"

"Friends with abominations? No such thing! Do not act like this is the first time you've come here! That scent, this place is full of it, Kindred always sneaking in here, underlings of the Tremere sent to destroy me! I've caught you now though!"

"Well that is interesting," I murmured, "because this really is my first visit. Hmm perhaps you speak of the limbless ones?"

"What? The minions before, the pretty smelling ones? No you are different, that scent of yours is poisonous, it lingers in the back rooms, you hide there where I cannot get through! Deceivers, trying to set a trap for me!" He swung for me again and I jumped back. He was quick though, I looked to the front doors that lay behind him and wondered if I could make it through to them, would they even be open? He charged with a roar and I turned and fled, backwards it was then. Ah there, a single door, human sized mercifully! I raced towards it, whilst pondering what it was gargoyles were weak to- sunlight, water? Hmm, wasn't that green faced witches?

I ran to the right side of the stairs and forced myself into the door, not trusting it to be unlocked. I hit it with a painful bang but thankfully it gave way. I found myself flying forward as the gargoyle's stone head followed after me, cracking the wall, shattering the doorframe and sending me past cobwebbed chairs and a dusty floor. I landed with a grunt and then stood up once more, turning back to smile at the red eyed head that struggled to free itself.

"Sorry stony!" I called back before looking ahead to the forgotten wooden stage. My, my, this was a big place. I wondered what might be hidden through those doors behind the stage and underneath it, perhaps some forgotten scripts and costumes? Oh what fun I could have playing dress-up! I ran up the formerly red carpet, wary of the eyes of the golden dragons on the walls watching me, somehow I just knew they came to life.

It was beautiful in a decrepit way with gold and crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, dragons and phoenixes patterning the seats, motifs of Chinese warriors and women upon the walls mixed in with tigers and long tailed birds. Of course the paint was faded and chipped and I wondered if perhaps I was eyeing the memory of it rather than reality, ah well memories were sometimes better. Of course Sarah Grey was an exception that, an art student in Santa Monica, friend of Samantha, best to ignore her, best to leave her dead, and yet she was always there nagging in one mind or another.

I climbed over scratched railings and onto the stage. "And then the moon, like to a silver bow New-bent in heaven, shall behold the night," I called out loudly, giggling as my voice echoed through the empty theatre. Ah I would have made a grand performer! I looked to the seats where curious fey watched me from and bowed to them before turning and running to a door on the left.

I wandered through several corridors of dressing rooms and prop rooms but found only empty rails, cracked mirrors, broken brushes and just one forgotten hat, a dusty, green Robin Hood styled affair, which I promptly placed onto my head. I smiled and greeted the rodents and insects I passed as I wandered back and forth, filling with dismay and disappointment. I finally found a locked door leading downstairs and made short work of its rusted lock with my trusting lock pick and clever negotiating with the imp who lived inside.

At last the door swung open to a dark and dusty room and low moans met my curious ears. Ah there was the scent of blood in the air, fresh, warm blood, sweet nectar, longed for life giving liquid but where was the source? I let out a low growl of hunger and scanned the room, searching for the answer. I sniffed the air, followed the faint, enticing whiffs, down, down, ah a trapdoor but of course! This was the theatre! Hmm perhaps a bloodied phantom dwelled down there? I was quieter and more careful with this lock, best not to frighten the poor phantom. It unhooked easily and I lifted it up silently. The scent grew stronger, my vision turned red, I had neglected my feeding for too long, so I charged blindly down with a snarl of hunger.

Ah Kine and Kindred mixed together, cries of pain and alarm, a fist in the darkness, a snarl, blood, blood, blood, blood.

"Irritating foresight," the maddened snarl in a voice that was almost familiar.

My vision flickered between red and black.

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><p><em>'And then the moon, like to a silver bow<br>New-bent in heaven, shall behold the night' quote courtsey of A Midsummer Night's Dream by William Shakespeare__._

_Apologies this chapte has taken so long, I did it all today, just had to keep going with it until it was finished. Been busy editing other stories and other stuff, but I shall try harder to update sooner. Anyway, almost ready to reveal the killer woo! Perhaps it's a surprise, perhaps not, I'm hoping there will be some surprise with the revelations! Getting quite fond of writing Alex and Kent, they make quite the funny pair for me. Got to have some more broody Ash, I always had a soft spot for him in the game._


	11. Chapter 11

Bloodbloodbloodbloodblood. I was so thirsty; I needed to feed and the smell of that sweet, carmine liquid was strong in the air, taunting me. I could not reach it, chains restrained me and much as I fought them they would not loosen.

"I warned him, he tried to keep you away, tried to save you but you were getting close." Did my ears detect some mad muttering? I tingled with excitement as a feeling of kin rushed through me and a spark in one of my minds seemed to rush out in greeting. "Heh heh he interfered too much so I tried to pin it on him, I knew you would come looking for a Toreador and where best to look for a Toreador, the theatres of course and there's only one theatre in town that's all but impossible to search. He knew of course, a wonderful irony he was privileged with searching when the Baron pandered to you, he knew better than to come to this theatre. None of the rest of them thought of it, they didn't fall for my ruse but not because they're clever, oh no, because they are so vain, so unwilling to believe that a Toreador could do this. Well they're right! The dainty pretty vampires could never sink to this, not unless they were Sabbat, the Sabbat appreciate the beauty oooh he appreciates it too, doesn't want to but he does. He's a Sabbat at heart but he's loyal to Isaac so he can't admit it, can't give in."

"Oh just shut up," came an annoyed groan. I looked about in interest for the source, somewhere to my right, oh a horrid stench of sewer.

"Sewer mouse," I purred.

"Shut your hole!" came the furious retort. "Think I'm talking to you? The Hell I am you're just another idiot prisoner!"

"Hush now hideous thing," the first voice, the familiar male, said warningly, "I'm narrating now, patience, let the author have his turn. Heh heh."

I turned and winced as barbed wire seemed to sink into my throat, wrists and ankles, slicing through skin and causing beautiful crimson to leak out. Oh beautiful, sweet blood, so much pain and hunger.

A hand reached out to me, grabbing my neck and wrenching it round, causing the wire to sink in tighter and deeper. I let out a groan of discomfort as my vision rolled between black and red before finally settling and focusing on the mad one who had my head in his grasp. "Alex," I murmured, "sweet conqueror you are so delightfully mad."

"Mad?" He blinked those catlike eyes and shook his head. "No, he might be mad, Alex, but not me, and I'm not him either, I hate that comparison! I'm Xander, I'm the one who wants to understand our condition, who wants to see how far we go, how far the pain can last. Humans are so vulnerable and yet when faced with death they last, their love for life is so strong, even in the most despondent who claim otherwise, the things they can survive, it's amazing. The Kindred can survive more of course, but we come from humans, they are our blueprint, to see their limits, to see what we came from, what we could endure and then to compare, to see how we have advanced. It's interesting comparing our species, for all their tough facade the Ventrue didn't last long, pampered things."

"Ah you kidnapped Sebby's pets?" I acknowledged. "They did not make it to the golden Sewer Lord?"

"No," came the growled response, "but that was not my doing, that was him, loyal Alex, devoted to the Anarchs and their cause. He saw the Ventrue sneaking in town, overheard their plans, go to Gary, make an alliance between Camarilla and Nosferatu and destroy the Anarch base in Hollywood from under them. He couldn't let it happen, loyalties make one so weak, I told him to ignore it but he couldn't, he took one and then the other. He had no plan though, idiot, would've been lost without me, heh heh, I brought them here like all the others and thought it best to take advantage of the situation. I'd never had a Ventrue to experiment upon and now I had two, the female lasted longest but not by much. Perhaps I should have brought my pets better blood, they sniffed upon my offerings of common Kine."

"He's a sick fuck!" The stinky female again. "He tortures people and Kindred!"

I heard a fist collide with a jaw and barbed wire cutting through flesh once more but oddly not mine this time. "I said let me finish!" he snapped angrily. He was before me again, his green eyes studying me curiously. He jerked a hand to the other prisoner in the shadows. "That one was wandering about looking to get revenge on a model," he informed me, "probably would've mucked it up and caused a violation. Silly Nosferatu, she's done well so far, but then they are used to filthy things, doesn't like the fire mind."

I heard the female whimper at those words. "Fire's good," I enthused, "you can cook marshmallows on it."

"Heh. Heh. Perhaps I'll try it on you; I've yet to experiment on a Malkavian, should be interesting. It's hard to capture the Kindred, especially with Alex's interference, he didn't like me taking the Kine either, considers himself close to their nature, as do all those pampered poodles, but he was so afraid when I took Kindred that I'd take one of his friends. He made me stay away from the Toreadors and then you when you showed up, but you were sniffing around, being a good dog to Sebastian, he was worried you would get too close and then I would find you. He was right. He tried so hard to keep you away though, making you frenzy when he needed a distraction or when your thoughts became too clear, sending you to the grave guard when he had to check the bodies. Those zombies, another interesting side effect, all those Kine still angry and frustrated in death, and in pain, frightened I suppose, buried in others' graves, if I had known I would have dumped them elsewhere, minor inconvenience though, they can't talk.

I had to dump them elsewhere when the zombie shooter showed up, he's too observant at night, irritating, no more new zombies though; the bodies go quietly into the sewers, heh heh, no sharing down there, food for the sewage beasts."

"That was you? What a neat trick! Teach me?" I pleaded. What fun it would be to raise the dead!

"Heh heh," he laughed again, "you don't get it, they rise because they have no graves, they cannot sleep, it frustrates them at night."

"How did you make me frenzy though? I suppose it was easy, I am always so thirsty. Did you dare one of my minds do to it? Suppose you did, two of them always love a good dare," I mused.

"I did not!" he snarled angrily. "He did it, to protect you, to keep your minds from using their foresight to solve the murders, to distract you, to protect himself when I started to pin it on him. He was warned and he did not listen. I left that rose; I knew someone would notice it and know it for the Toreador symbol and I knew he would panic and implicate himself in an attempt to turn the evidence away. Poor Alex, an easy pawn in the end. He tried to stay close to you, tried to stop you from becoming a victim but he failed in the end, because it wasn't the only secret he wanted to keep from you. Too many secrets, too distracting. That's why he terrorised that mortal I suppose, she recognised him, he was afraid she would make you remember, his secret shame."

"Sam?" I guessed. "Ah poor Sam, we never did solve the mystery of the S cult. Dear Alex you mistrusted her, made me paranoid, drove me to kill dear Sam with your words, didn't you? So good with words Toreadors but you're no Toreador, so strange, the poet is lost, gone to the madness, a deception unknown even to him, the best kind of course is when you can trick even yourself."

"Gah!" He vanished from my sight briefly before returning with a strange looking spiked device of metal. Into my chest, carving through the flesh with those tiny spikes, whittling against bone, an odd sensation, one which had me screaming. "I'm not Alex! Alex is a weak, simpering Toreador who denies himself! He loves beauty but it's a dark beauty, he sees how artistic the flesh can be, how admirable my work is, how I create even as I destroy! He sees it and he loves it but he won't admit it, won't join me!" Ah the cutting had stopped, what a welcome relief. He lifted his other hand with another strange tool at hand, silly me for assuming the madman had only grabbed one weapon. Into my stomach like a corkscrew, gyrating within the muscle and against the bone, round and round, turning my blood like a washing machine, hope it was getting clean.

"You were a mistake, I realise that now, I just wanted to spite him. He wanted you, saw your love for art, and thought you were a kindred spirit,"I laughed at that and he frowned, "but I saw the things he missed. I know you heard the voices, didn't you Sarah?"

I flinched, _Sarah, sitting at her desk sketching, staring out the window at the moon, clutching her head, screaming, willing them to be silent_. "He wanted a Toreador but I knew you had better potential than that. He took you, tried to turn to you, brought you to the beach, wanted it to be beautiful of course, stupid Toreadors, always obsessed with looks, thought he had and left you in your room to finish the change, I came back though, sneaked into the room where he left you, and I turned you, yes I, my fangs finished the job. He had tainted you though, I couldn't stop that unfortunately, and it was enough for him to be tied for you, an irreversible error."

"No," I retorted calmly, "the man in the moon did it, I am a moonchild!"

"Ah that fool, yes he watched you too, stupid, crazy beast, he just wanted your blood. He followed Alex, of course he didn't notice, he wasn't smart enough to keep his guard up, I noticed him though, saw him lingering before I came to you, let him linger. I knew the Masquerade would need a patsy or questions would be asked when you were found, I let him go in when I had left, then I went and told the Masquerade, a tipoff, pointed their noses in the right direction, good sniffers they were. It was a gamble, the crowned one might have killed you, but such is fate, whatever was meant to be would be. I never stayed to find out and neither did Alex, he didn't trust me to go off on my own; he knew what I would do. He thought he could stop me, silly thing. Then you showed up, he was so hurt when you weren't a Toreador, of course like everyone else he blamed Moon Boy, never thought I could have done the deed."

"Well it makes no sense so I guess it's true," I accepted sorrowfully. I was not the daughter of the moon master then, how sad, but instead the spawn of dear Alex, poor Alex, lost to his own mind, a prisoner of his madness ah but then were we not kin and kindred after all? So similar, yes I could understand how troublesome it was to argue with ones many minds, how easy it could be to be dominated by them. "Alex take control," I urged, "come back, you're more fun than this voice, so much less painful too, I like you, I don't like this one. Come out and play Alex, you owe me so much lost play time!"

"What are you doing?" The high pitched Nosferatu again. "Who are you talking to? You are both crazy!"

"Come out, come out wherever you are," I urged, "I want to egg Ash's club and mock poetry night, I want to chase ribbons down the streets and adopt kittens! Come and do it with me Alex!"

He looked at me, shuddered and let out a snarl before his head began to twitch in a rapid blur. I grinned; it was an almost nauseating thing to watch and would probably give him a sore neck. "Come on poet, I miss your company."

He went still, blinked and twitched again before looking about in a panic. "What is this? Oh no, not here," he moaned, "not this place."

"Oh not this shit again," our lumpy faced companion complained. "You are fucking mad."

"Ariadne?" He looked to me with horror, an unfair irony I thought, I was the one in chains who should be doing the looks of horror after all. "Oh no, he got you too, I knew I shouldn't have let you go to feed alone. I'm so sorry, I tried to protect you from him, tried to keep you away," he murmured softly.

"Let me go Alex," I said calmly, "the barbs have stopped tickling."

He looked at me in confusion and then sorrow. "No, I...he'll get you again and me too, he threatened to bring me here, to torture me with the others." He glanced about the room in fear. "He's here somewhere, isn't he?" he choked out. "He'll torture us all."

"Well yes and no," I retorted happily. "Come now Alex loosen the chains, I'm bored now, I want to feed."

"He'll destroy us both if I do," he whimpered, "he's so powerful, he only let me stay free so I could be his scapegoat. You thought it was a Toreador, he wanted you to think it was me but it wasn't, I couldn't do this."

"Look at your hands you crazy asshole!" Our female Nosferatu snapped.

Alex looked down at his bloodied palms and shuddered. "A messy kill," he dismissed quickly, perhaps too quickly.

"Alex Toreadors don't do messy," I reminded him gently.

He looked up at me and shook his head again. "Ariadne please, he's framed me somehow, his name is Xander, he's a Malkavian and he's the one doing this, I know I should have told you all sooner, and I know it looks bad that I didn't but he threatened me and he threatened you, please believe me!"

"Oh I do Alex," I said sincerely, "the voices threaten me too, especially when I beat them at checkers, they get so angry then."

"Voices? No, you don't understand, he's a Malkavian, he tried to frame me, he was going to kidnap and torture you if I said anything."

"Oh sweet Alex, who took the Ventrue? Who went whispering to the graves? Who made me a child of the night? Was it him? Was it you? Was it both? Are there more delightful voices for me to meet? I have five, perhaps you have too."

"What? Ariadne no, he's lied to you, tricked you, I don't know, don't believe him; I've nothing to do with this! I don't..."

"You find the morbid things beautiful Alex, you always said so, the beauty that comes from someone's anguish, the darkness of their suffering and pain, you enjoyed it."

"Yes but in a form of art, not like this! Please, don't think I did this!"

"You did," the Nosferatu growled, "you bastard."

"Alex, you are like me, ah poor thing so misguided, you need to acknowledge the voices, they can offer such amusing conversations you know. You can only silence so many of them and you've silenced the wrong ones. Kill Xander, he's a nasty vamp, destroy him."

"I can't, he's too strong," he replied in a low voice.

"Do try Alex," I urged, "and please unchain me, the blood makes me so thirsty." There was a Kine here somewhere, perhaps several, I smelt death in the air mingled with the blood.

"I..." He glanced about nervously and then the twitching starting.

"Damn so close," I grumbled.

The redhead sniffed the air and growled. "He was here," he snarled.

"Of course he was, he is you!" The Nosferatu grumbled. "Stupid mad asshole!"

"Shut up! I told you before, we are not the same, we just bear a resemblance!" he yelled at her. He looked back at him and slapped me hard without warning. "You are the problem, you lure him here even when he knows better, once you're gone he will stop challenging me and threatening me."

I smiled widely at him. "You are not much fun Xandy pandy, so angry, so dull."

He walked away and I knew he was going to return with some new instrument of pain, how predictable. My head drooped, my head seemed to sing and dizziness overtook me, there was a high pitched screaming from somewhere, perhaps the Nosferatu, perhaps me, I was too thirsty to care. My eyes were red, my nose burning with the scent and my mind taunting me with thoughts of it.

"Ariadne!" Oh that voice, real? Hmm didn't really matter, it was nice to hear regardless. "Ariadne!" Hands jerking at me, shaking me, how rude!

"I'm not a doll," I grumbled. Bloodbloodblood. I hissed and arched my head back as my stomach growled.

"Here, this one still has some blood." Something pushing me forward, blood, oh growing stronger, yes, yes! I sank my fangs in and my mouth was flooded with warmth, I drank hard and fast, ignorant to the feeble struggles beneath me. More, more, more! I drank and drank until someone tried to pull me back. I snarled at them, kicked and flailed like a wildcat but they were stronger. They pulled me back and restrained me until I went still.

I opened my eyes warily and found Alex backed against a wall, clutching his head in his hands and sobbing whilst Kent stood before him, watching him careful.

"How did you know?" I queried curiously as I looked up in Isaac's golden gaze.

"We didn't," Isaac admitted, "Kent heard word of strange goings on in the theatre, people complaining of loud noises, something like an explosion or crash, he came to me, and I knew of course the gargoyle was doing it."

"You knew about stony?"

"Yes, he's been a nuisance for a while. Well we couldn't risk the Kine police finding him, so Kent and I came to see what could be done and I smelt your scent nearby. I questioned the gargoyle, though he wasn't willing to talk, he babbled about Kindred invaders in the theatre bringing death and that was it before he went on a rampage."

"I almost lost an arm," Kent grumbled.

"How did you get past him?" I pondered curiously.

"We Toreadors are known for our speed," Isaac admitted haughtily, clearly unhappy to admit he had run from a foe.

"I'm going to blow the big git up later," Kent vowed. "But first you, Alexander, I always knew you had an odd obsession with the beauty of the darker things but this?"

"He didn't do this," I spoke up quickly. "It was his twin, Xander."

"Twin?" Isaac echoed.

"Lies!" The Nosferatu shrieked. "They're both mad! He did it, he's a crazy psycho, he tortured Kindred and Kine in here!"

"I didn't," Alex protested, "he framed me, I didn't do it!" He lowered his hands from his face and looked past Kent to Isaac. "Please I'm loyal to you, I wouldn't do this, I wouldn't."

"He's a Toreador," I said calmly, "he couldn't do this, not unless he was Sabbat."

"But you were so sure a Toreador did this," Kent pointed out as he glanced over his shoulder at me.

"And I was certain leprechauns stole my cowboy hat but it was the dwarves," I replied seriously, "sometimes I can be wrong."

"What about the rose carved on the victim?" Isaac pressed for information.

"He was trying to frame me," Alex said vehemently, "because I knew it was him doing this. I wanted to tell you Isaac, I swear I did but he threatened to frame me and he threatened to take Ariadne and she...I..."

"You?" Isaac looked from him to me with a frosty calmness. Oh dear, the Baron's eyes were tinged with green.

"He bit me in the night," I murmured, "on the beach, he tried to kill dear Sarah, wanted her for her art but he left too soon, abandoned her in a vulnerable state to the mercy of a Malkavian."

"What?" Kent sneered. "No way! That's too rich, and tragic, you tried to turn her and you failed?" He looked from me to Alex. "Then she could have been one of us, sophisticated instead of bat shit crazy!" He laughed. "Oh that's just sad."

"Is anyone going to untie me?" the screech of the annoying sewer mouse. "Or are going to continue believing their lies? He did all this, I've been a prisoner long enough to know my own captive, he's a Malkavian, he argues about himself all the time, he's mad!"

Kent and Isaac both looked to the Nosferatu and wrinkled their noses instinctively. "Well Alexander you do have an odd interest in the morbid and brutality," Kent murmured, "but then again, it's hard to believe anything a boil faced sewer dweller says."

"Oh you Toreadors, always sticking together," the Nosferatu complained, "typical, you're too obsessed with your movies and books and art to pay attention to reality."

"Just who are you?" Isaac demanded.

"Imalia," came the hot retort, "and as soon as I get out of here I'm going to make sure everyone knows who the killer is, maybe Gary will do something about it!"

"The Nosferatu confuses Yin with Yang," I murmured, "Alex is Alex, he wants to be a Toreador and so he is a Toreador, loyal to the Anarchs but Xander is Xander, a Malkavian Sabbat who experiments on Kine and Kindred, seeing their pain thresholds. Alex can kill Xander though, he knows him best, he will find him and destroy him."

"Can he?" Kent queried cynically. "Alex and Xander," he muttered, "oh shit, you are a frigging Malk. Now how could I missed that? I knew you were different, darker, dangerous and hiding something but this? Really?"

"I'm not him!" Alex protested. "Xander is the Malkavian, he did all this! I am a Toreador, I would never do this, I'm on your side!" He turned from Kent to look at Isaac imploringly. He tried to step past Kent in a blur to reach us but Kent was just as swift in blocking him.

Isaac sighed and looked to me. "Ariadne, what if Alex can't defeat er...Xander? What if Xander wins? Hmm? What should be done here?" Ah my Baron, more insightful than I gave him credit for.

"Isaac what are you saying?" Kent demanded, without taking his gaze off Alex.

"He is her sire in a respect, at least he wanted to be, and he is still the Alex we know and care for. It is possible he is strong enough to become the dominate persona, it has happened before with Malkavians, one last battle is forced upon themselves before accepting the madness and submitting to the voices. Often it is outside circumstance that forces this battle, outside influence as it were, which determines the victorious persona. The madness does not go away but one personality can prevail and continue to remain dominate. Ariadne may be driven by many voices for example but she is just one personality."

"Right," Kent replied bluntly.

"He's too strong," Alex groaned.

"But he's boring," I argued, "come now, you will forever be in danger if you cower, we all will. I will even listen to your poetry if you do this, I promise, well maybe just one poem but still!"

Alex chortled faintly at this. Then the sickening blur of his head shifting and shaking back and forth began again. "Alex we will forget him if you do," I promised.

"You are loyal," Isaac called to him, "and a good friend to us. He is nothing, an enemy to be crushed, a disgusting Sabbat."

"You led them here! You fool Alex; they will blame you, and destroy you for this!"

"I...I didn't do this."

"You did, you enjoyed watching them squirm, you found it beautiful how the blood swirled down their bodies, you are a Sabbat at heart like me!"

"I'm not! I don't like things like this, it's disgusting, perverse, you did this! You forced me to keep quiet, tried to frame me but they know the truth now." Green eyes looked at us hesitantly. "Don't you?"

"Yes Alex," I assured, "Xander is a fiend, a clever, mad fiend! You are a Toreador though; you don't get your hands bloody."

"What the Hell is going on?" Imelia shrieked. "You are one and the same!"

Kent went to her in a blur, punching her hard enough in the face to shatter some fangs. He glanced down at his fist and winced in disgust. "Quiet now sewage, I'd rather not touch you again," he warned.

"Yes, yes," Xander I assumed, "one and the same, Sabbat together."

"Together?" Alex echoed. "No, I'm not you, I'm not, I'm a Toreador!"

"Oh yes, most definitely," I enthused, "only a Toreador could speak like you and write such dreadful poetry and insist on attending beatnik clubs and browsing art galleries, you do those things Alex, and drag me along too, you are definitely a Toreador."

"Yes, yes I am."

"Well it doesn't matter, you're weak, always on the sidelines, always in the way, keeping me from Kindred, well it ends now. I will end you and then our mistake, Sarah, next."

"Sarah?" It was like watching a ping pong match with no balls or paddles, just two pupils darting back and forth. I could understand, I did so often like to debate with myselves about which hat to wear and where was the best place to go unicorn hunting. "No, no she is Ariadne now and you won't ruin that, you won't ruin anything anymore! You have killed too many, I should have stopped you sooner! And I will, you are a threat to all Kindred with your actions!"

He moved in a blur before anyone could anticipate his actions, going to the table where the instruments of torture and play lay. When the blur resumed normal form we were treated to Alex stabbing his supple throat right through with a stake. He screamed as the blood began to gush out and his eyes rolled back in his head before he slumped to the ground amongst the decaying corpses.

We were all still for a moment and I found myself filled with an unexpected rush of fear and sadness. I turned from him and burrowed my head in Isaac's chest, afraid to see which of them would stand- Alex or Xander?

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><p><em>So which plot twists did you guess and do you enjoy them both? I debated a lot about making Alex a Malkavian, originally he was just a Toreador <em>antitribu<em>, a Sabbat, and Ariadne was a Malkavian because Moon Boy finished siring her but I liked this idea better. Naturally it was largely inspired by Tourette, dear Jeanette and Therese. I thought it made Alex's character slightly more redeemable._


	12. Chapter 12

_Hi thanks for the reviews and favs, always appreciated! _

_To JustMe glad you liked the twists, not sure about your point about Malkavian siring since Alex is a Malk who sired Ariadne the Malk, it's just that Alex thinks he is a Toreador and it was his personality Xander who finished siring Ariadne, and left Moon Boy to take the fall with the Camarilla. It's been quite confusing twists though, so I'm hoping this next chapter clears things up, I admit I had to re-read and rewrite the twists a couple of times before it made some sense lol. I also thought myself that his actions with Sam probably gave the game away so to speak but it had to be done, I felt he and Xander were both too threatened by her presence. Anyway, many thanks for the reviews as always!  
><em>

_To ThursdayNext, though I very much doubt you will see this reply given you only read one chapter of my fic, firstly character development happens over the course of a story not just in one chapter soinconsistant (actually inconsistent by the way) characterisation can't really occur in the first chapter unless my character hmm perhaps suffers from multiple personalities or is inconsistent by nature, which is the point but I guess you missed that or simply didn't like it. Madness is a trait not a personality so you cannot pick faults in someone's character's personality and saw it's not a correct form of madness, perhaps this other Malk whose fic you insulted on my page speaks riddles as part of their personality not their madness, or perhaps it's both. Also given that madness cannot really be defined as it varies from person to person day to day etc I don't think you can really suggest that it has a set blueprint, and frankly I doubt you're an expert upon it. _

_Although, as a point, my friend is a practicising psychologist so I do have a little insight, because I do, do my research, thoroughly, even for fanfics. As stated though I imagine my reply is wasted upon you since you're clearly a troll judging by the fact that you insulted someone's else VTM fanfic in my comment sections too but still, just in case I'm wrong, I thought since you took the time to leave a comment I would take the time to give a reply._ _Also, I've played the game twice in Malkavian mode and some of my quotes are in fact from the game and since the game is fictional, as is my fanfic, I'm certain both are quite capable of taking liberties._

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><p>"I...he's gone," Alex murmured, "he's finally gone." His green eyes rolled up with uncertainty and he touched his blooded throat in confusion.<p>

"The poet survives," I enthused happily as I smiled at him.

"Yes," Kent grumbled as he glanced back at us, "and what exactly does that mean? What now? What do we do about this mess?" He gestured to the corpses, bones and ash piles. "What do we tell everyone?"

Isaac stood up, pulling me with him and looked at Kent sternly. "The truth, that the killer was a Sabbat Malkavian, who we couldn't find because he stayed here, and that the killer was destroyed by us."

"Right," Kent grumbled.

The Nosferatu began to let out a screech of protest but it did not last, Isaac moved to her in an unnatural speed. "There were no survivors tragically," he commented dryly. Kent and I both flinched when he ripped out her throat in a blur and stabbed her chest with a stake he had snatched up, turning her to cinders and ash. I watched in awe as tiny phoenixes were birthed in the sparks and fluttered about cooing softly. Well it was a clean kill at least, how very Toreador. One had to wonder if she had been anything but a smelly Nosferatu would Isaac have maybe taken a less lethal approach?

"Well...I suppose the Camarilla can't wage war," Kent grumbled, "not if a Sabbat did this, and presumably made the Ventrue disappear?"

"He did," I chirped up, "oh and the zombies, yes the zombies! The most interesting point of all, Xander killed them, put them in the graveyard but with no graves, it's why they wander, nowhere to sleep, quite sad, makes them grouchy."

Isaac let out a heavy sigh. "What a mess," he remarked wearily, "it's going to take a lot of effort to see those bodies properly buried without the Kine becoming involved."

Kent jerked a thumb at Alex who remained slumped on the ground, looking puzzled and in disbelief. Ah how oft I had given such dazed expressions myself. "What about him Isaac? Come on, he's...well ..." Kent moved from Alex at last to come before Isaac and I. "He's a damn Malkavian," he muttered in a low voice, "and the cause of all this even if he's too mad to realise it himself."

I shook my head scornfully. "He's a Toreador," I reminded him, "a mournful poet like the rest of you."

"No," Kent argued with a glare, "he thinks he's a Toreador, there is a difference."

"Not to him," Isaac said softly. "He was probably a poet in life, a man of the arts but when a Malkavian turned him he became one without choice. Rather than lose himself completely he created two personas, Alex who could be the poet he wanted to be and Xander, the one who would deal with being a Malkavian."

"And now that Xander is gone from his mind who deals with being a Malk?" Kent queried wearily.

"I don't know, perhaps now that Alex is the dominant personality he will remain obliviously thinking he is a Toreador," Isaac answered calmly, "but we must be sure of that. So he will be contained until it is certain that we have Alex to deal with and only Alex, it's not an action I'm happy to take but I see no other choice. Not just for our sakes but for his as well."

"Stake him," Kent said bluntly though there was a reluctance in his eyes.

I let out an angry yell of protest. "You can't cage birds! It's cruel, Alex needs to fly, to hunt, he's one of you, he doesn't hear the sweet voices and the music, he won't like the silence, to him it is just silence."

"Ariadne," Isaac addressed me with a firm look, "I am the Baron of this city and I must protect it and intentional or not Alex has proved to be a very dangerous threat. I will give him his chance once I am certain he is Alex and only Alex."

"You know," Kent murmured as he looked at me coldly, "Nines said Moon Boy turned you but you said Alex tried to first and failed, leaving you to a Malkavian but he is a Malkavian... Oh shit." He shook his head and laughed. "He's your fucking sire isn't he?"

I frowned and shook my head; did Kent not understand the concept of two beings? Ah such a small mind, no room for others in his skull. "Alex wanted to turn me on the beach, he got distracted with the Thin-bloods though so he took me to my apartment and left me there, he thought he had turned me but then Xander came." I shuddered. _Green eyes admiring my art, soft hands lying me on the bed, this demon was kinder now but still edgy. "I just wanted it to be perfect," he murmured. "You are a kindred spirit but this will have to do, it's too risky for me to stay." My heart slowing, my lungs ached, my head pounded and my throat felt swollen and soaked. I was so weak, could not rise to shut the window bringing in a chill. Green eyes again, cold, wicked, yet the same. I screamed, the fangs came back, so sharp, so brutal. A horrible, taunting laugh and then gone. Ah so weak now, so afraid, surely it was done? But oh no, one more mad thing in the night. Eyes closed, heart stopped, fangs biting too late, savouring the last of my blood._

"He turned me, made me a Malkavian, Moon Boy came after, curious but too late, he was blamed, a martyr for the madman, a victim of timing. He didn't keep a watch I suppose."

"Xander set him up," Kent guessed, "Alex, shit, this is too confusing. He's a damn Malk and he turned you into a damn Malk," he pointed at me accusingly, "but he doesn't remember or even realise it because all that is another persona of his, one we just helped him destroy."

"He knows something," I murmured happily, "our minds are such tricky, playful things, we weave some long webs, keeps us all connected. He made me frenzy, naughty pup, made me thirst so badly, crave the blood, he did it to distract me, keep me from the truth, keep the monster safe, ha ha, such an irony."

"Wait, he did that?" Isaac queried with a look of surprise. "Then even as Alex he has some connection to you."

"He thinks it's because we met before, upon that beach and he took me for a bite to eat, he he, our connection, his fangs."

Alex let out a low groan; he was probably thirsty after losing all that blood from his throat. Kent and Isaac looked to him warily. "Where will you keep him and what will you tell him?" Kent demanded as he continued to watch the redhead.

"Romero has a bunker below his shack, a last ditch hideaway from the er...zombies should they grow too many, at least until the sun sent them back. Of course he has never had to use it; we can put Alex down there. My ghoul should not be plagued by him for long; once the zombie situation is sorted he can return to his apartment."

"Will you forget him? Starve him?" I demanded. "Back into Pandora's Box hmm?"

"Will you?" Kent pondered. "Surely forced solitude will just bring out the madness in him Isaac."

"I will allow him visitors and Kine to feed upon," Isaac said stiffly, "and I will make sure his quarters are apt, it will be for a couple of months at the most. He is a Toreador, I will not have him suffer shambled conditions."

"We wild things should not be caged," I lamented with a look of pity at poor Alex.

"Enough, my decision is final. Now, we will take him there now and find him some prey on the way." Isaac went to Alex, extending out a helpful hand to him. Alex accepted with a confused look and rose to his feet. Ah helping hand, soon to stab in the back, traitors everywhere.

"Not you Ariadne," Isaac murmured as he gave me a commanding gold stare, "I think you will distress him and yourself if you come. Go and feed and then go home." Home? Back to his? Back to Sebastian? Back to Santa Monica? Where was home and which home did the Baron mean? Oh how wickedly confusing. Dismissed, scorned, a threat, banned from my own sire or half sire? Hmm which was it? Was he really any? Was it not the deceased Xander? I was a Malkavian, I had come from a Malkavian but Alex was...? Ah foolish Kent how dare you confuse me! Alex was a Toreador, Xander was the Malkavian! They were but two halves, one the mirror image of the other, one the reality, ah but which had been the reflection? Was Isaac right, was Alex the true persona, an artist or poet or both before a Malkavian had slain him and ruined his mind? Was Xander the form conjured to deal with the traumatic change? Dealing with the words of Malkav that poured into his mind, that voice that whispered to us all. Ah the curse of Obfuscating, hearing the soft whispers of our brethren, was it Xander who had listened and responded to that?

"Go now," Isaac ordered.

"What about stony?" I ventured quietly.

Kent pointed to a door at the back wall, dusty and shiny with cobwebs. "Out there," he murmured, "there's a back entrance, I'm sure you can pick the lock."

I sighed and walked to the door, glancing back at my tragic redhead once, his puzzled, green stare looked back at me with hurt before I turned from it. I swept the cobwebs round my right hand, twirling and twirling until I had a nicely spun bundle to lick. I opened the door with my left and departed down a dark corridor, savouring the sweet webs as I walked and crunching down on a juicy spider. It did not take long for me to find the exit door though the cracked exit sign had long since lost its green glow. I noted as I picked the lock how quiet the sprites and elves were being, silent in the mourning for myself and dear Alex or was it Xander they mourned? After all surely it was Xander who saw them just as I did?

The lock clicked and I was back out in a cool night, the sky was slightly lighter, a couple of hours from dawn. When I returned to the streets there were few people wandering them, most of the drunks were home now and the clubs shut. I followed an unsteady hobo down an alleyway and let him feel the prick of my fangs. Sarah did not come with the blood this time and while I should have been relieved I was not, just oddly sad. I halted when I spotted a familiar yellow taxi sitting quietly by the pavement, the engine humming in a low tone. I looked to the driver and found his black glasses gleaming back. He gave me a nod and I nodded back, strange character how could he always be everywhere? How did he ever earn any money just sitting there? Did he sleep in his yellow chariot? Was there perhaps a hidden world in his boot?

I wandered on until I had drifted back to Isaac's humble abode. I found Ginger there in the living room listening to the gramophone, humming along to the tune and swinging a delicate foot over a slender leg. She paused and looked at me questioningly with her blue eyes. "Are you alright dear?" she queried sweetly.

I shrugged and smiled back viciously. "Just fine." Couldn't tell Alex's secret, best let the Baron do the explaining, he was a better speaker anyway.

"Are you sure?" Was that concern in the bird's eyes? Featherbrained as well as plumed then.

I ignored her, looking instead to the fey who welcomed me back with tiny, happy cheers. Every time I left they worried it would be forever, perhaps one day it would be. Alex was contained, two minutes, twenty minutes, two days, two weeks, two months, two years, it did not matter what Isaac said the limit was, it would feel like forever for us both. He was the only one in the starry land who had never scorned me or turned from me, my one true companion, faithful, trustful, understanding, yes he was all that and now he was gone from me. It would not be fun without him, egging Ash's club, stealing corsets from V.V's den, it was funny but it would not be the same when they came and scolded and whined to daddy Baron to spank me without Alex to defend me in his deadpan manner or laugh at my deeds. Isaac would eventually grow tired and without the redhead's voice in his ear to remind him that sometimes my minds could not help themselves then perhaps he too would turn on me. He had done once before...

I wandered past the curious bird to the backroom and opened the trapdoor that led down to the basement. I would rest, the sun was coming and I had no time to do anything else but tomorrow night, tomorrow night... Ah perhaps I should just let brownies decide. I ignored the coffin Isaac had had built for me and slinked into his as I usually did. I wanted my Baron here; I wanted his cold flesh embracing me as it did when in private. His posh, clean smell lingered in the coffin's plush, velvet lining. I rubbed against it and purred.

I awoke and found Isaac already gone from me. His embrace had been brief; he had returned to me late and fallen into our strange dead sleep almost instantly. I arose with the familiar prickle of thirst lingering in the back of my throat, stretched and reached for my police cap. Once it was secure I put on my black, leather boots and headed up the stairs, feeling sombre. Even the jokes the leprechauns whispered in my ears as I ascended did little for my mood.

I heard voices coming from above and wondered briefly if they were fey, Kindred, Kine or something else entirely. As I focused on them they became familiar, ah the usual crowd here for another bonding session. When I reached Isaac's offices I got the expected look of scorn from Ash and annoyance from V.V. I knew deep down though that Ash loved me really, his life, unlife was dull without me and he had made it clear on numerous occasions how much he loved drama.

"Of course the killer was a Malkavian," Ash sneered loudly as he continued to glare at me with his pale, blue stare. "But you had us on a goose chase looking for a Toreador, as if one of our own would be so perverse." He shuddered. "It was obviously just another one of your dumb games."

"Only some of my games are dumb," I protested, "and that's just because their parents couldn't afford their education, but the rest of my games, they passed their I.Q tests." I gave a proud nod.

Ash scowled and gestured outwards with both his hands. "Madness," he said dramatically with a shake of his head.

"Yes," V.V said with a lowered gaze, "you did waste our time and during such a serious time."

"No harm done," Kent spoke up, "she helped us find the killer in the end and he's been dealt with now, dust and ash."

V.V placed her hands on her slender hips and pouted at him. "Oh I suppose it's alright for those of us without businesses to run to be chasing after the wrong kind of criminal, never mind how many kills he might have made whilst we were barking up the wrong tree."

"Woof! I didn't know you liked to do that too!" I exclaimed with a wide smile at the redhead. "I love to bark up trees, especially at Cheshire Cats! They're hard to spot but you can usually smell them!"

She rolled her clear grey eyes at me and looked to Isaac pleadingly.

"She probably accused a Toreador on purpose," Ash remarked in his usual monotone voice, "all part of her Prince's scheme, pin it on one of us." He looked at Kent and then Isaac. "The Ventrue were probably meant to disappear, maybe the Malk was in alliance with them too, then she blames a Toreador and the next thing you know there's a Blood Hunt."

"Enough Ash," Isaac commented wearily though there was little anger in his voice, Ash always would be the Baron's soft spot.

"Ariadne is too mad to be such a good schemer," Kent commented mockingly, "she would end whispering her plans to the walls and we all know about it." He let out a chuckle. "Or she'd confuse herself over her goals and re-imagine her orders."

"Not re-imagine," I protested, "just make them more interesting."

Kent gestured to me with one hand. "I rest my case."

I looked at the ground instinctively for this case but could not see one. "Where? Oh is it an invisible case?" I queried excitedly.

Kent sighed.

I rubbed my hair thoughtfully and looked at Isaac from a bowed head, reluctant to meet his eyes and speak my next thoughts. It was a hard decision but necessary I thought though I could not quite remember why. "I should tell Mr. Crow," I said brightly.

"That's a good idea actually," Kent spoke up before Ash could accuse me of treachery again. "Before he gets even more suspicious or starts planting evidence. You are his minion, he will have to believe you without evidence and besides, it is the truth. A Sabbat Malkavian, not easy for him to argue against that. A nutter that took not only his Ventrue, and do be clear about that part Malk, but also slaughtered a few Kine and a Nosferatu before we destroyed him in a manner that surely even the Cammies couldn't complain about."

"Oh I'm sure the baby faced bit of a prince will," Isaac sneered, "he will mutter about how I took too long to find the killer and babble about justice and trials though it means nothing to him, all for show." He looked at me then. "Just like it was with you and your sire."

"Me?" I squeaked as I met his gaze at last.

He nodded. "I was there for that," he glanced at V.V and gave her nod, "so was Velvet, much as he hates the Anarchs he still had to make things look legitimate, likes to pretend to be a Kindred of fairness and equality but he's not, he's a naive, smug, power mad bastard only he's far too young to know what to do with his position."

"Did you know me even then?" I squealed in delight. "Ah but then it was destiny!" I beamed happily at Isaac before a frown tugged down at my lips as my voices hissed in union and argument, reminding me of my decision to return to Mr. LaCroix. "We are star crossed," I said mournfully.

"I'll go with you to Downtown," Kent decided, "Nines needs informed about everything. Should let him know the Anarchs are safe from the brat prince at least for the moment."

Isaac looked at me and sighed. "It will be risky for you to return, he might dispute the news, accuse you of lying or simply...hurt you because he's angry that he didn't get the news he wanted."

"It's important that he's told Isaac, especially if the Nosferatu are planning an alliance with him," Kent argued, "we still don't know why those Ventrue were here."

I felt the tingle of a lightbulb above my head but when I glanced up for it I was dismayed to see none. "Oh! Oh! Oh! Naughty Ventrue wanted to play with the filth, envoys, forced to the sewers to strike a golden alliance."

"And how do you know that?" Ash hissed with a frown.

"A dark confession," I murmured, "from their slayer, heard their murmurings of plots but like the gunpowder man they were foiled."

"You mean to say that our nameless Malkavian killer just happened to tell you this?" V.V queried doubtfully as she folded her arms and frowned at me.

"Well Malks do love bragging," Kent commented, "he probably thought he was confessing to a purple badger or a dragon, fuck knows with these nutters."

"So that arrogant jester was trying to make an alliance," Isaac snarled hatefully, "I should go and behead him myself for this."

"How very French," I remarked agreeably, "would suit him nicely."

Kent chortled at this and I was certain V.V and Ginger hid smiles. "There's no evidence though," Kent reminded us, "not with the Ventrue gone. All the more reason for Ariadne to go to LaCroix before those sewer rats can come up with some lies should LaCroix start asking them where his beloved servants are."

"I think you need to talk with the filth king," I said to Isaac with a grin, "no alliance has been made, so make one. He has so many rats following him, so many webs under the earth; they're everywhere, useful things. He plays his own puzzles though; you will need to offer him something good."

"Yes because taking advice from you is a good idea," Ash sneered, "first you claim a Toreador is a murder and now you're saying that the Toreadors should ally with those filthy underground creeps."

I shrugged. "Can't we all just be friends?"

"How about you just worry about what to say to his highness, okay Malk?" Kent advised. "And on that time really is of the essence here and there is no time like present."

"Wait, you want to go now?" Isaac queried as he looked to Kent and then to me.

Kent nodded. "The sooner the better, Nines needs to know what's going and LaCroix needs some news before he gets impatient and just decides that the Anarchs took his precious Ventrue."

"He's right Isaac," Ginger said gently.

I gave her a low snarl, trying to get rid of me then? I immediately leaped for Isaac, grabbing him with both hands and hugging him close. "I'll come back," I assured, "so no one in your coffin but me, and I'll know," I gave Ginger my best vicious look, "the rabbit will tell me."

"Bit rich come from you," Ash muttered.

Isaac eased me off him gently. "Alright Ariadne, what must be done must be done, I'll see you soon."

"Come on then," Kent addressed me, "unless you have stuff to bring, and by that I mean useful stuff not your crap pile of trinkets. I know a cab we can catch."

"Ah the yellow carriage doth await," I announced before I pulled myself up into a kiss with my Baron. "I will miss you," I said sorrowfully before I released him. He gave me a look of bemusement and mild embarrassment before ruffling my hair awkwardly with one hand. Ah poor Baron, still too polite to be romantic. I turned from him, linked arms with Kent and began skipping towards the door. "Onwards to the town that is down!"

"Malk I've warned you about this," Kent snapped as I dragged him out of the door to the busy streets of the stars, fallen and rising. "Let go of me," he groaned when several girls looked his way and giggled. "Seriously," he snapped as he tried to struggle free from me.

"Skip Kent, skip!" I enthused as I led us to the yellow taxi. Ah there it was, shiny and humming with its creepy, shady eyed driver. Oh I wanted those sunglasses but I did not dare. "Skip!"

We reached the cab and Kent jerked free from me at last. He leaned into the driver's window whilst I climbed into the back seat happily. "To Downtown L.A," he instructed before climbing in beside me. "No I Spy," he warned as he glared at me.

"What about, I See?" I suggested innocent as the taxi began to pull out onto the road.

"Fuck no."


	13. Chapter 13

_Apologies for the ridiculous delay just been busy moving houses and working loads but life's settled now. So anyway, as always thanks for the reviews and favs, they are all appreciated!_

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><p>"So after all this you are telling me a Malkavian Sabbat took my allies and murdered them?" Sebastian queried doubtfully as he looked at me with mistrustful grey-blue eyes.<p>

I grinned and nodded enthusiastically. "Yes quite the fiend but Isaac and the others dealt with him and send you their condolences. The Baron said to say he only wished he could have known the Ventrue were there then they might not have fallen into such ill luck." It was a half-truth, more Kent had said to say that the Baron had offered such amusing sentiments.

Sebastian's frown deepened and his stare took on a warning edge. "Malkavian I hope you are simply reporting from that false dictator and not trying to goad me."

"I say only what he wished me to," I retorted as innocently as I could.

We were in Sebastian's office, and here I had stood for over an hour now reporting back the loss of the Ventrue and the execution of a Malkavian Sabbat who had kidnapped Kine and Kindred alike to experiment upon them. It was obvious Sebastian did not want to believe me but what choice did he have? I could tell from his reactions that he had heard nothing to the contrary and could think of no reason as to why I would lie to him. Unless perhaps he had a ball of eight to tell him otherwise, there were so many drawers in this room for such a magic bauble to be kept.

His loyal sheriff lingered nearby casting a warning shadow upon me, daring me to speak false and anger the Prince. "And what of his alliance with Nines? Any evidence of that?" he snarled.

"Oh just some hints but no proof alas," I murmured sorrowfully, "the Baron is too clever for me and too untrusting."

Sebastian's eyes narrowed and he stood up from his desk to glower at me. "Well then what useful news do you have? Anything?" he snarled. "Or have you just been wasting all this time?"

"I found out what happened to the blond children of Veddhartha," I retorted defensively. It wasn't my fault Alex had found them first.

Sebastian raised one golden eyebrow and gave me a quizzical look before continuing. "Yes but that's all you have done, you were supposed to bring me proof of Nines' and Isaac's allegiance! Unless," he paused and looked at me like a hungry shark, "unless you deliberately found none, perhaps you spent all that time in Hollywood for other reasons."

I shook my head with a look of surprise. "Oh no my Prince, the only games I am good at are checkers and battleships, you spared me, I owe everything to you, you plucked me from my sire's ashes and educated me in my ignorance, to you I am loyal," I said gently with a small smile.

His gaze remained suspicious but I could see him wavering.

"Let me continue to prove it," I implored him, "send me on another task." Yes I needed distraction, take my minds off Alex, poor Alex, and ensure that dear LaCroix knew I was on his side, at least until Isaac deemed the alliance useless. Ah but it was all so complicated, perhaps my minds and I should take a vacation.

He looked thoughtful for a moment and his scowl lessened slightly. "Very well," he said in his matter-of-fact voice, "perhaps you do deserve another chance, something even you cannot mess up I think. I need you to go to Santa Monica and find a Gangrel named Beckett, tell him I wish to request his services for a case, which I think will be of interest to us both."

"Ooh how exciting," I enthused happily.

"Yes, if he prompts you for information tell him it concerns a Noddist relic of value and importance."

"Noddist?" I echoed.

The Prince touched his brow wearily with one hand and nodded. "Yes, do not concern yourself with what it is, just find Beckett and tell him. If you really need help my ghoul Mercurio should be able to assist, although he is dealing with other business for me so it would be easier if you could just do this yourself."

"Yes sir Mr LaCroix!" I said enthusiastically. I saluted, turned and skipped out of the office before he could question me further. Down the elevator, past my greedy guard and out to the cool, poisoned streets of Downtown. Ah but I had just got here, perhaps some catch ups first, maybe find the gnomes who made sugar and perhaps the many tentacle beast that dwelled deep down beneath the earth in the streams of shit and water. Yes, yes, so much to do, first to my darling Anarchs, they must miss me so much!

I stopped on my way to The Last Round to prey on an unsuspecting hobo. Their blood tasted thick and sour and I broke from them early to vomit it back up in a hot spray on crimson. Disgusting, vile taste! So the plague was still in town then. I shuddered, glowered at the dazed soon to be dead wanderer of trashcans and continued on my way. I would have to find a more sophisticated feed, perhaps at The Empire Arms Hotel.

As usual The Last Round was filled with questionable patrons and loud, pounding music that was without style and words, there was only a roaring accompanied by a heavy electronic beat and perhaps the strings of overplayed guitars.

"Cammy," dearest Damsel greeted me with a frown and a snarl, "what are you doing here?"

I smiled back, ah how I had missed our tête-à-tête. "I came to say hello," I informed her, "to speak of the man in the tower, and make murmurs with the number man."

"Murmurs about what?" she snarled. "Kent has already told us about the Sabbat killer in Hollywood and that prick's plans to unite himself with the Nosferatu, what do you have to say, huh? Can't imagine it's anything worth listening to."

"As I said, words from Rapunzel without the hair, high in the tower watching all," I commented happily. "Chill out Girl Scout, you won't sell cookies with that attitude!" Before she could respond I scurried up the stairs. I found Kent lounging comfortably on a chair with two half-clad army vixens lingering nearby, Skelter stood by the stairs, ever alert, whilst Jack lingered in a corner and Nines posed against a wall. The rebel leader tried to look casual but I knew he was putting on a tough pose, perhaps to earn some of Kent's attention.

"What do you want Malk?" Nines demanded frostily.

I looked at him and grinned. "I'm here with information!" I squealed happily.

"I doubt that," he commented coolly. "Kent has already told us about the problems in Hollywood. Did you report back to your master?"

I nodded happily. "Yes I told high highness of the Sabbat killer and the loss of his poor Ventrue."

"It's a pity you couldn't have sorted it out sooner," Nines scolded.

"Why?" I queried curiously. "I mean the lights and the unicorns, it was all so distracting and zombies, yes don't forget the zombies!"

"Maybe your precious prince has let you think he was happy to wait for your crap and swallow it but he wasn't. He doesn't need evidence he just needs hearsay, there have been rumours all over this city about Anarchs taking out Ventrue, innocent travellers of course," he sneered. "Now we have those loyal to that bloody Camarilla targeting us, three of our own have already disappeared. If you had just told us sooner, if the missing Ventrue had been nipped in the bud, if we'd known to find evidence but no, maybe you didn't think that would sit well with your prince."

I glanced at Kent but he avoided me, turning his head up to one his admirers and smiling at her instead. "I am loyal to Isaac," I said calmly, "I go to the prince because the Baron willed it and Kent." I looked at him pointedly for a reaction but he gave me known, obviously the vixen was wearing the girdle of Aphrodite and had him ensnared.

Nines scowled at me. "You claim you do things for Isaac but I'm not ready to trust that just yet Malk. Look, you could've helped us sooner but you didn't, that makes you a liability not an ally but so long as you don't blunder anymore or think to say the wrong thing to your prince then we won't have a problem with you. Just stay away from us and keep your affairs out of ours. It's not good getting information from someone when it's delayed and usually tainted with rubbish, I'd rather be in the dark than brought into your kind of light."

I looked to Kent again, waiting for him to jump to my defence but he was busy with snogging the other vamp who was beside him whilst the first watched with a jealous gaze. "Well I only told Mr. Cross what happened," I remarked in a hurt tone. "He wasn't happy but he believed me."

"Of course he did kid," Nines said dryly. "I don't know if you're naive, really clever or just plain mad sometimes. Maybe you believe him, maybe you don't, maybe you just pretend to. This is the problem with you, no one can trust what you say and maybe that's not your fault, maybe it is, who knows? In this war though we can't have you on our side, sorry. So if you want to play neutral, good, if you want to go back to licking his majesty's boots fine but if you cross the line and makes things bad for us we'll come for you. That being said, thanks for your help, don't trust his highness and get out while you still can kid."

Dismissed then? Cast out from the army before the war? Why though? Were my flamboyant ideas too much for the Anarchs? Were they simply racist Brujahs who had problems with Malkavians? Ah but then Kent was a Toreador and evidently welcome to the cause. Had he not been with me in Hollywood? Had he not been slow in solving the mystery of the disappearances? Was it not me who had found the truth? Why then was I punished with exile? Ah but I was a martyr, a scapegoat, they were frightened because I could see the goblins.

"Well I'm going to the Lady of the Sea," I told them chirpily, "but perhaps in the future we can be friends again." I grinned before turning and prancing down the stairs.

"Have fun mad bitch?" Damsel leered at me.

I smiled and nodded. "Yes, though not as much as I would've liked dear ginger fighter, so off to moon, sand and sea!" I hurried from her, the Anarchs didn't want me here then I wouldn't be here. I crouched and obfuscated, for a moment no one would see me. Ah there were the voices, the low mixed murmurs, young, old, female, male, languages old and new. One slightly more prominent than the others, a male, an antediluvian, a sire, a master. I debated listening to him but I didn't have the patience, so I thrust his voice back into the others, one among the many.

I whispered in the ears of punks wandering past, giggled at the mad mumbling bag ladies and blew gently in the ears of the students. They all whirled round in surprise with wide eyes looking for someone who wasn't there before scowling at the companions as if they were the ones playing pranks.

I stood up and lost my disguise when I reach The Empire Arms. When I strode in I was greeted with the usual look of distain from the dark haired clerk but he said nothing as I headed to the restaurant. I could hear a singer playing, a female, no doubt the raven haired regular who couldn't get a gig elsewhere. She wanted to be a rock star; her posh parents had sighed and given her a job singing in their hotel instead. I followed her siren voice, too soft for the rock vocals, loud yes but not deep, not a yell, no she would never fulfil her dreams. She was there in a red dress, largely ignored by the alcoholics shuffling from the bar trying to gossip over her, to them she was nothing but an annoyance. I eyed the patrons hungrily, all snobs, all with luscious dark secrets but none as seductive as the singer.

I darted out a door to the right and headed down an empty corridor until I came to a bolted door. With my hand lock pick and some force I made sharp work of it. Here was her small domain, a mimic of the rooms of the real stars, a storage room as well as a dressing room. There was a mirror on the wall with a card for 'Our Little Star' nestled against it, a rack of dresses hung carelessly on wire hangers, and discarded cardboard boxes lingering across the floor. I occupied the only seat and waited.

The fairies did my work and called her to me, their tinkling tones plagued her ears, tormenting her until she silenced her voice and came to the door. I watched as the door at the top of a small set of metal steps opened my weary raven haired beauty wandered in with a frown. She closed the door, halted and looked at me with alarm and curiosity.

I stood up and grinned, too petite too be dangerous, too weird to be safe. She did not know what to think. "Come to me," I purred with as much seduction as I could manage. "Come." My thirst was strong; it crept into my voice, set an unwanted edge to it.

She hesitated and I saw the fairies exchange puzzled looks before they sung harder.

"Come now singer, night time dreamer," I called gently with a soft, promising smile.

"Who are you?" she demanded uneasily as she descended slowly, half-reluctant but half-willing. "What are you wearing?" Her eyes flashed with distain making mine burn with annoyance.

Insult my outfit? How dare she, the finest elves had made my hat! I snarled, I was thirstier than I realised. Was Xander's influence still lingering on me or I had just simply ignored my thirst for longer than planned? "You're beautiful," I praised when I saw her eyes widened, "a siren, a Muse, Apollo's own divine voiced servant, your voice calls to me."

"Really?" A dark eyebrow rose a notch in doubt.

"Truly, it's different, it's seductive, I come here often you know and your voice stays with me through the nights, it's unforgettable."

She stepped down, yes closer, off the steps. I closed the distance, I reached for her and she shrank back again. Impatient I simply pounced, springing onto her and sinking my fangs in, ignoring her yelp of protest and pain. Soon she would be silent and go under, yes she was stilling already. Then there was a shake, a jerk of protest, a muffled cry. I held fast, sank my fangs in deeper and sucked at the hot nectar that drifted up.

Once sated, I released her, setting her down in her chair and leaving her to her dreams. Full, I departed for the room and out to the cool, poisoned streets of Downtown. I considered staying, visiting Pisha for fun and Venus but I couldn't, something in me hurt, there was a wound, one I annoyingly couldn't see. I looked down at myself and frowned. "You're tricky self," I scolded, "always playing games."

"Still talking to yourself then Malk?"

I did not look to the speak; I simply disregarded him and obfuscating.

"Malk," he scorned, "that only works on the weak minded and those who haven't already detected you."

I clapped my hands over my ears and scurried forward, heading back to the Ventrue Tower where my yellow carriage awaited.

"Malk come on!"

"You're talking to the wind," I whispered, "talking to air! Can't hear you!" I hurried on in a crouch, noting all the puzzled stares. All for him of course, he was talking to himself, no one could see me.

"Malk you're drawing attention!" he snapped moodily.

"Stop following the wind," I hissed back. I glanced back; saw his look of embarrassment, his annoyance at the stares. I then turned forward and there he was in my path. Damn there speed! Well I was still unseen, invisible, time to take advantage. I charged at him, I would knock him over and laugh as he blinked stupidly at nothing.

He grabbed me, ruining my attack and shook me hard. "Ariadne knock it off," he scolded, "I can see you alright?"

I dropped my hands from my ears and glared up at him. "Oh now you can see me?" I sneered. "I thought there was a spell on me, perhaps it is temperamental, silly wizards."

"What?"

"Maybe it restricts itself to round without followers, but then the number man could see but ah he must have special vision perhaps." It was always possible I supposed, Nines was strong, and it would be just like him to withhold some special gifts.

"Oh." Kent's grip on me slackened slightly and his grey eyes shone with a hint of guilt. "Look Nines made up his mind, I tried to dissuade him, said you were mad but harmless but he just doesn't want to risk our business with you. There was no point in me saying anymore, it would have been a silly argument."

"It's alright, there are followers and doers, you are just a sheep he of the three names, I understand."

"That's not funny," he snarled. "Look what could I have said? You are mad, you did delay telling us about the Ventrue, it is difficult to tell whose side you're really on and even if you mean to be on Isaac's sides maybe one of your many minds would rather side with Sebastian, who can say? We can't run the risk!"

"Then don't," I said calmly as I shrugged him off. "Go back and play battle soldier, I shall go and moonbathe of the shores of Santa Monica, a deserved holiday I think."

"What business do you have there?" he demanded curiously.

I tapped my nose and smirked. "Ah but you don't want to hear the business of LaCroix anymore, I could be lying, we could be jesting." I laughed, turned from him and ran. I reached the taxi, flung open the door dramatically and threw myself across the leather seats like a wild runaway or perhaps a heroic thief. "To the Lady of the Sea!" I commanded as I sat up and shut the door. "And quickly."

"Yes quickly please, there are only a couple of hours until sunup."

I turned to Kent with a hateful glare. "Get out, back to your pinup dames soldier! You don't want to play anymore, take your ball and go home then, don't follow me," I snapped at him.

He gave a groan and leaned across the seats to me. "I'm sorry," he said moodily, "alright? I am sorry, I should have stuck up for you even if it meant getting laughed at and bullied by the others. You found out who the killer was for us and you have done your best, in your own wayward way, to help Isaac. Maybe you like that arsehole LaCroix, maybe you don't, but there's no evidence you're trading secrets with him so Nines shouldn't be so paranoid." He sat back against his seat and groaned. "He's just stressed Malk, there have been attacks on the Anarchs every night now, Lacroix started rumours that we were kidnapping Camarilla members and they're attacking us in vengeance. It's not your fault but it puts everyone on edge, makes us all paranoid."

I shrugged. "Politics bore me," I commented in disinterest. "I want to build sandcastles."

Kent laughed dryly. "Alright Malk, let's build sandcastles then."


	14. Chapter 14

_This will be my last update for a short while since I'm going on holidays but don't fret, I will definitely keep going with this fic! Many thanks for the reviews as always, I'm so glad people like Ariadne/Sarah. Happy to reach Santa Monica at last, always loved it, especially now since it means some more character development and revelations for my Malk. Absolutely cannot wait to have Jeanette, Therese and Beckett all make an appearance, next to a certain Baron I loved these guys the best in the game. Also, what do you guys think of Kent? I actually really like writing his superior character, he's smug but there's a nice side there too, a change from the kinder yet crazier Alex. Guess Kent's got some secrets too. Oh also, I lingered on describing the first apartment because honestly given the state of it I really didn't understand why a player's Toreador would be so accepting of it? Granted beggars can't be choosers but still I think Kent shows a just reaction. Also, nostalgia!  
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><p>Santa Monica, it had a strange sort of night life to it, subdued compared to Downtown and calmer than Hollywood. The Kine and Kindred were their own type of oddness, city folk sprinkled with seaside folk, they partied on the surf, sneered at visiting town folk and considered beach parties and drug deals more important than fashion, the movies and the latest soaps. There was only one club of note, The Asylum, and the hotels and motels were cheap lacking the finesse of Downtown's luxurious hotels. People came here for the views not the rooms.<p>

Even here on the damp tarmac road I could smell the salt in the air, the beach was close, yes I remembered beach parties, playing tag and hide and seek, getting bitten whilst Thin-bloods watched on... I had grown up here, I had gone to college here, I had died here. Ah but no gravestone? Was dear Samantha from here too? Yes, an accent we had shared, mine twisted with the dialects of the many voices in my head fighting to be heard. The mysterious S club why of course, Santa Monica, it was in the name, a conspiracy!

"Er...where are we going Malk?"

I looked at Kent and smiled. "The ruler without the crown made promises of a haven here," I murmured, "many moons ago, shortly after he plucked me from a mock execution and offered me a chained freedom."

"Hmm a chained freedom, how poetic," Kent mused. "Perhaps you understand what he's about better than I give you credit for. So this haven, where is it?"

I glanced about the streets curiously. There were small groups of teenagers and college students shuffling past, lone adults with their hands in their pockets, trying to savour the salt air over the pollution as they worried about work and considered wandering to C. Moore's Coffee. "Near," I murmured happily as I spied a delightful silver sprite glimmering near a brown bricked building. I grabbed Kent's arm and skipped, following the faint tang of Kindred and the glittery trail left by the sprite as it flew off, ever out of reach, no doubt fearful that I might pluck its wings.

On until we came to a building with abandoned trinkets forgotten ornaments, unwanted instruments and other worn objects in the windows. I paused and hunted hopefully for a golden phoenix egg or perhaps, if I was lucky, the Mad Hatter's hat but I saw nothing of interest until my eyes caught a dusty lamp. It had a gilded spine and a battered blue hood with tassels. "Ah the genie has updated his prison!" I cried out delightfully as I pressed my face up against the cool glass.

"Of course he has," Kent commented dryly. "Come on Malk, where's this promised haven?"

"Ah the promised land," I murmured as I continued to stare longingly at the lamp, yes the gap in the centre, a gaping hole downwards, there he was hidden, waiting for someone to rub the lamp and set him free! "Yes, down the narrow alleyway, a hidden away apartment, very subtle," I commented as I pointed loosely with one hand.

"Well come on then," Kent said as he grabbed my arm.

I shook him off. "The lamp!" I cried out anxiously. "I must have my wishes!"

Kent sighed heavily. "I doubt the place is even open."

"Would you bet on it?" I queried as I turned round to face him hopefully.

His head cocked to one side in a blur before his grey eyes met mine and he said, "no." Damn Toreador speed, he had read the same crooked OPEN sign I had.

I turned and pushed open the door, giggling as the bell gave a tinkle. "Oh my, in a cage!" I marvelled at the shop keeper kept behind a wired door and then behind another wire fence. "Why such protection?" I wondered as I glanced at the items lining the shelves behind him, tantalising just out of reach. Was this a realm of Tartarus? If we crossed through the gate would we find ourselves in the Underworld to be taunted by objects so cruelly out of grasp?

The shop keeper looked at me calmly, his gaze glassy like Slater's with that same strange sweet odour hanging around him. He was close to his thirties, dark haired, pale eyes, an attempt at a beard and a dirty t-shirt, largely an unremarkable man. "There's been some trouble in town," he murmured. "Always is though, still, doesn't hurt to be safe."

"Trouble?" Kent echoed warily.

"Some slasher maniac," the man commented casually, "tearing people up, that sort of thing. Messy business, had the pier shut down for a while but it's open now."

"Never a dull moment is there?" Kent queried dryly.

"We can go to the funfair!" I cried out excitedly as I looked at Kent hopefully. "You can take me on the big wheel and win me a teddy!" I clutched both his hands in mine and shook them eagerly. "And then we can build sandcastles!"

Kent frowned and I saw his usual look of embarrassment fill his eyes but I was certain there was a spark of happiness there too. The Toreador needed a beach vacation just as much as I. Ah yes there was business to be dealt with too, wasn't there? Well it could be handled later.

"So you looking to buy or sell or..." Ah the clerk, quick to business on a slow night, not eager for company to break up his boredom then.

"Buy!" I chirped happily. "The container of light and magic and great secrets in the window!"

"The what?"

"The battered lamp with the blue shade," Kent explained impatiently.

"Oh right..." Ah dear shopkeeper, he did not want to do labour tonight, he was...mellow yes that was the word, hmm what a nice feeling, like being in purgatory, not ecstatic but not upset, just calm.

"I can get it," Kent offered. He turned around and hunted through the objects trapped between a black cloth and glass. Unsurprisingly it did not take the Toreador long to find it. I was not impressed by the lack of care he held it up with, along with a dented box of bulbs. Silly Kent, did he not understand a bulb was what had kept the genie plugged up in the first place?

"I'll take a dollar fifty for them," the man murmured.

I looked down at my dark pants and frowned, a naughty brownie or perhaps a clever kitsune had stolen my purse! Ah but it was dragons that hoarded treasure, perhaps it had bewitched me with a stare and stolen from me, wretched beast! "I am a pauper," I lamented woefully.

Kent let out another sigh, mimicking the Kine his kind were so found of. "I'll get it, if it means we can get out of here."

I grabbed him in a tight hug and he gave a small cry of protest. It lacked Ash's enthusiasm but I knew just like the fallen star he secretly enjoyed the gesture. "Let go," he grumbled, "so I can pay the man." I released him and he shoved the lamp against me before daring to enter through the gate to no man's land, a small realm of between. I hugged the lamp close and whispered down it, "you will be free soon; I shall save my last wish for that." A lie perhaps but the genie would never know.

Kent paid the man and we left, heading down the alleyway beside the shop and bypassing the drunk hobo that lingered there. "Here," I said as I pushed open a door stiff with dampness. We entered a narrow place that consisted of boxes to the left in the wall and a wooden staircase. I pranced up it until we reached the top with the golden numbers 508 marking a door. I hunted amongst my pockets, certain I had a key for this place and was delighted when, after much searching, I found my keys.

"Do you have enough key chains?" Kent questioned sardonically.

I glanced at them and grinned, there was a Charizard, a Hello Kitty, a small chain of colourful flowers, a bat teddy, a reindeer head with a light-up red nose, a miniature faux fox's tail, and a black snooker ball as well as six keys, all with coloured rubber smiley faces on them. I fumbled with lamp and started to try the keys, the one with the red smiley worked. "Ah success!" I cried out. "Let the wishes be mine!" I hurried into the room and began to rub at the lamp furiously. When nothing happened I rubbed harder and cried out, "open sesame seed!" Nothing. "Can you tell me how to get to Sesame Street?" Nothing. "Abracadabra Alakazam!" Nothing.

"This place is a dive."

I looked to Kent and saw him shudder with disgust. He coiled away from the walls and tried to shrink inside himself as he discarded the bulbs on the filthy mattresses on the iron bed and rubbed his hands together. "It's disgusting, I cannot stay here." He looked up and side to side uncomfortably. "I can't, it's horrid, there's dirt everywhere."

"Tis the humble offerings of a Prince," I tried to console him.

"Well it's no surprise he's a cheap bastard," Kent scorned. "We're finding somewhere else, come on."

"But Kent this is free," I reminded him, "and secretive."

"It's not secretive," he scorned, "people avoid it because it's rundown not because it's hidden! Come on, it's making me itchy." He rubbed at his neck with one hand and looked at me anxiously.

"Very well, since you did gift me with this." I looked to the lamp forlornly. "Although the genie has escaped alas."

"Alas indeed," he grumbled before risking his abnormal celerity to flee from the room. I followed at a more normal pace with several hops and jumps down the stairs before finding him back in the alleyway and slightly calmer.

"Where to then snobby artist?" I asked.

He frowned at me. "I just have standards," he said grumpily. "Come on, we'll look for a nice hotel."

We did not have to wander far; Main Street 24 was just down the road. It was a deceptive name; I knew there were other numbers trapped behind the large doors and besides, where were Main Street 23 and 25? Hmm was this a magic doorway to a wizarding world? Was that the explanation for this oddity? I looked to Kent hopefully; surely this cleaner looking abode suited his standards.

"It's private," he murmured, "but we may get lucky." He led the way up the stone steps and through the double doors. Inside we were greeted not with magic and broomsticks but piano music calling down the blue, gold and grey tiled hallway from one of the rooms. This hallway was large, clean and better lit with black doors on either side. I started walking up, pausing to sniff at the doors. A resident behind this one, a bounty hunter, a businessman soon to return to this one, liked expensive hookers, hmm a messenger, a Ghoul, not long gone from this. Opposite that, yes it was cold, no scent, resident gone for a while.

"Here," I said as I fiddled at the lock with my trusty lockpick. It was not an easy task but I managed it. The apartment was large, clean and unoccupied. There were long, lacy, gold drapes, a turquoise carpet with peach rugs, plant pots, vases on stands and a turquoise couch with a matching seat. The kitchen was to the left, the bathroom on the opposite side beside the bedroom. I headed to the bedroom opening the door to find a king sized bed with silk sheets and plump cushions with tassels and velvet covers. I removed the coral coloured lamp on the mahogany cabinet and placed my own battered treasure in its place. Then I kicked off my boots, leaped onto the bed and began to jump on it.

"What the Hell are you doing?" Kent demanded as I did a backflip.

"Celebrating our good fortune," I retorted before I attempted a cartwheel. My legs tangled with themselves and I tumbled to a heap on the cushions. Ah I could slumber now; this was indeed fit for the king it had been stolen from. I had to wonder how big kings were to need such large beds. Hmm if dear Sebby got promoted would he suddenly become tall and fat?

"Do it quietly," Kent scorned, "or someone will call the police. This isn't our place, remember that."

"Ah but it is," I said as I sat up and smiled at him, "we are on holiday, a honeymoon and this is our suite!"

Kent immediately looked mortified and I wondered if he would if he had more blood in him. Ah was my companion suddenly shy? I giggled, stood up and ran to the curtains, twirling them about me before lifting a drape up by its ends and settling it at my brow. "See I have a veil," I told him cheerfully.

He shook his head. "We should...er...feed." He looked calmer as the idea came to him. "Yes, feed, we know what you can be like if you don't. Come on, this place will do while we're here providing the residents don't come back."

I let the drape drop to the ground and followed him out of the apartment. "I wonder if the moon tastes of honey at every wedding," I murmured.

Kent did his best to try and charm would be victims but for some reason his Toreador gifts of seduction seemed to fail him tonight. I had to wonder if it was linked to the fact that the females he chatted up tended to look at me and become uneasy before they hurried off. He looked at me in frustration and snarled, "can you hang back? Your weirdness is ruining my style here. I mean people are starting to think you're with me."

"Aren't I?" I queried innocently.

"No," he snapped with a shudder of revulsion. "Look, let's hunt separately, I work best alone anyway." He hurried off without waiting for a reply.

So I wandered alone, drifting past buildings listlessly as my stomach started to growl and a familiar burning ache filled my throat. The faint odour of blood filled the air making my mind spin and my stomach growl harder. I was outside the clinic, knowing that going in could only be a bad idea in my condition, I drifted down the alleyway instead. There was a medicinal tinge in the air but not enough to cover the sweet, intoxicating scent of blood. So much blood, so many types, some fresh and warm, some cold but still so saccharine on the tongue. I had been there before, a broken arm, sill stunt, yes I recalled. I wondered now if a doctor could help silence some of the voices but ah then I would truly be alone and how horrid that would be.

There was a pounding music in the air now and red lights flashing distractingly, blood on the ground, a burning bright stain, oh what a taunt those lights were! I was near Club Asylum where it had all ended, where it had all begun. I could not face it just yet or could I? I stopped outside the doors; it was a grand gothic structure, four stories high with two wooden double doors hidden above steps and behind stone columns. Purple and pink lights flashed from the windows as Goths, punks and rockers drifted in and out the doors, laughing, singing and jerking their heads in time to the music. I felt something tug at me, try to seduce me, a kindred spirit, a voice linked to my many, part of an intricate web of voices lost in the wave of madness. I stepped forward, this being was strong, they would sweep me under, seduce me away and I would forget myself, become lost...

The thirst snapped me from my trance and threatened to put me under another more feral one. I turned from the club and hurried on my way. I could not quite recall why I was here, why I had ever been here; I just knew that I had to feed. I followed one of the club goers when he broke off from his group and turned down an alleyway for a piss. He had a dark Mohawk, a ripped black t-shirt, leather cuffs, heavy, dark trousers and thick, studded, leather boots. I followed him quietly, dancing along the shadows and then sprung just as he whipped it out for a leak. He let out a cry that a muffled and then went still under my pale fingers as I sank my fangs into his supple neck.

Sarah, doe eyed Sarah, green eyes staring back, smudged with heavy black eyeshadow and eyeliner, it was a silly look, she had tried to be artist about it, tried to use her creativity to make herself look gothic and Victorian, mysterious and edgy. Back behind the reflection of hair gone rock hard with hairspray in a failed mess of spikes Samantha sat on the edge of a bed in hysterics. Sarah frowned in the mirror and shot her friend a glower that she missed.

"You're just not a goth," Samantha joked between giggles. "I'm sorry but if this is meant to seduce the guy it's not going to work!"

Sarah sighed, sadder than Samantha would realise. If this didn't work then how else could she get his attention?

I jerked back from my victim and shook wretched Sarah from my mind. You're dead Sarah, dead like Samantha so just stay fucking dead, both of you! My voices shouted, whispered, argued and jeered as they debated over banishing Sarah. Wasn't Sarah one of them? The named one, the prominent one, the one more past than present. Be the forgotten one Sarah! I released my victim, leaving him in a trance and hurried from the alleyway as I heard his friends call to him. I was tired, time to slumber and banish all thoughts of Sarah. Tomorrow night, business for the Prince, find the howling history lover. He was somewhere in town.

I slinked back to Main Street 24 and into our borrowed apartment. I spitefully sprawled out across the bed, stretching my limbs as far as I could. Let Kent sleep on the floor if my company was so bad for him. Hoped the Toreador could deal with mingling with stray dust and fluff. I closed my eyes and thought of my Baron, I missed him most when I went to rest. His cold body pressed up against mine, arms half in an embrace, he wanted to hug me, I knew he did but he was always so restrained, morals from an older time holding him back. I would make the gesture, turn into him, burrow against his chest and stay there until the dawn, safe, my minds softer, more at peace, stupid Sarah subdued. She would devour me here, this was her home, here she was strongest, everything brought back some flash of familiarity that I did not want, could not handle.


	15. Chapter 15

I awoke as the sun went down and found myself Kentless. I rose from the bed and went to the windows, flinching slightly as I looked out at the crimson tinged rays of the dying sun and let them singe my flesh. Had the poor artist become ash, caught up in seduction to the point of losing sanctuary or had he simply taken roost elsewhere? I frowned and shrank away from the window, why did the creative rebel slink away from my presence? Had one of my personas annoyed him? Perhaps it was his scarf I had stolen and turned into a pirate bandana or maybe he was still huffing over having lost I Spy to me. My voices and I pondered the potential slights as I slipped out of the room and into the cool corridor. The fleet footed god was home, I could hear his heavy, quick gasps through the door as I strode past, coupled with the feigned, high pitched groans of a red dressed hooker.

The hunter of chocolate coated coconut and other strange delights was at home too, murmuring to some unseen voice. Ah a kindred spirit perhaps? I considered it as I continued down the corridor slowly, giving the sun time to set. When I exited out to the murky, brown skies and grey streets dusk was just beginning and Apollo was all but gone. Drink, blood, nourishment. The voices demanded I satisfy my carnal needs before considering anything else. I started to walk, glimpsing about at the passersby, grinning when they looked back as I wondered who would offer the sweetest nectar.

There was music in the air, shaking through its stone holdings, the sirens of rock calling out to me and the many youthful Goths, punks, emos and rockers who wandered towards the crazed building that sent out the call. We were but moths to a flame, drifting forwards to this club, wanting to resist and yet wanting to satisfy our curiosity, learn what was within. Madness, memories, a voice warned. I ignored it though, tempted by the silky call from one within who was caught in the same web I was. Ah what secrets we could trade, she would give me clarity, she would give me warmth and softness, help heal the emptiness Isaac had left.

Isaac, ah my Baron, so far away, my minds were unstable without him, they needed his firm but tender leash to rein them in. I was dancing too close to oblivion without him, the urge to just give into it all and lose...lose what? Myself or myselves? Ah there was something there, something that held us back, kept us tethered to this cold, dark world.

I stepped through the doors and all my senses were attacked. Hearts pounded loudly in here, almost in rhythm to the loud roar of the guitar and shriek of the sirens, blood raced through veins wildly, tinted with alcohol and spurred on my adrenaline. I felt dizzy, I was thirsty, yes solve that problem first and then the mystery of the mad. I staggered to the bar and caught the nonplussed gaze of its large, fat and bald guard. A Cyclops that had found an extra eye, yes but of course there would be supernatural guards in this disturbing haven.

"Get something for you chief?" he growled at me.

"Ah you are painted," I marvelled at the dark swirls that covered half his face, his chest, his shoulders and arms. "Symbols to ward off the evil doers yes? Do they cover all your body or were you perhaps held back by your heel when dipped in these paints?"

"What? Are you serious?" he snapped at me. "Look I don't know what is you're after but I don't think we sell it here, in fact I know we don't."

"Ah," I said knowingly with a nod, "so they give you foresight, such a gift." A growl ran through my stomach and I turned from him, I wanted something more pleasant to drink from. My gaze lingered on a redhead frowning at her phone. I wandered over to her slowly and waited until she looked up from the phone, finally noticing my stare.

"Can I help you?" There was a hint of annoyance in her youthful voice.

"The doctor cancelled your appointment?" I queried curiously. "A shame, for him perhaps, you're too lovely to be left alone for too long. A rare beauty in an otherwise grim place."

She looked at me in puzzlement, her green gaze softening slightly at my words. "How do you know about Malcolm?" she queried softly, with a slight edge to her voice.

"The name of the betrayer matters not," I commented dismissively. "His loss, my fortuitous gain, and I count myself as lucky as a leprechaun to be melding words with you."

"Hmm..." I could see the spark in her eyes that hinted at contemplation. Yes the doctor had wounded her terribly, how strange for one meant to be a healer.

I leaned close to her, letting my undead powers tinge my words with a seduction she could not resist. It would not matter what I said she would come to me. "Let us meld something more," I murmured.

She closed her eyes slightly and nodded. I gripped her close and sank my fangs into her neck, must try to be...hmm how did Ash put it? Not so damn fucking obvious, yes that was his colourful expression. Must be more subtle, can't anger the masked Camarilla, LaCroix was already unhappy with me, best not give my dear jester an excuse.

This club, Sarah wasn't fond of it but there was nowhere better to go in Santa Monica. She had come here often, lingered through the night like a bad smell hoping to catch the attention of a wannabe pooch boy with strange hair. Ah I thought I understood, Sarah wanted to put a lead on that boy's collar, and have him by her side. Samantha had laughed at it, told her it was pointless but she had come out anyway. Come here...yes we had been here, me, Sarah, Samantha, Moon Boy, Alex, what a busy night. And another, yes another! That pretty smile, those gentle, mad eyes, Sarah had wanted to look like her, except for those eyes. He had gone with her, the handsome Goth, and Sarah had given up then, just in time for Xander or had it been Alex? I groaned, I did not want to know, these memories were too frequent, they created bad dreams, nightmares Isaac was not here to soothe away.

I pulled back violently enough to rip the bite marks into a large, lethal hole. "No more turning you Paige," I murmured softly. Send her out. Yes, a good idea from the helpful voices, it would not do to have a corpse on the floor. I held her blurred green gaze. "Go out lost kitten, run and find mama cat down an alleyway."

"Meow!" Her eyes widened in confusion, her shoulders shot up and she let an animalistic hiss. "Meow!" She turned and fled from the club oblivious to the blood gushing from her neck. I savoured the last of it, glad to be rid of Sarah and back to the insane reality of this club.

"What do we have here?" The voice sounded like an angel's, one with soft white wings and a bloody knife in hand. I turned to face the speaker; it was a trick, a creature of one very deceptive, beautiful image. Ah Kindred in more ways than one, this one could hear the voices. "Oh duckling it's you!" she remarked excitedly. She was a mad eyed beauty, lips as red as the rose, skin as white as snow, hair as golden as a dead chick's feathers and eyes smudged like a raccoon's. She gave me an alluring smile. "I haven't frightened you have I?" she queried with concern. "It has been a while since your last visit, did I scare you off?"

My last visit, when had that been? Hmm had it been mine or Sarah's? Ah the dear Prince, he had not sent me here I did not think and I had been on invisible leash at the start, obeying his whims, yes fetch good dog, get the bone. Although he had wanted me to come sooner, yes business with the fleet footed god but someone other minion had taken care of that whilst I was off looking in ovens for a corpse with peppers and fur, a delicious but odd combination though sadly one I had never tried. There was a flash of the goth boy again, that dark Mohawk, a ripped black shirt, baggy trousers, spikes coating his neck, ah Sarah did so want the strange rebel. He was in my art class. My art class? No hush now Sarah I am not you! I am the many, the legion, the numerous voices of the Malkavians, a vessel for the first of us... I staggered slightly.

"Duckling you look pale." She had her slender hands on her hips and was leaning close to me, her ample chest stretched outwards showing a teasing flash of blood silk holding back her breasts. I met her pallid grey eyes and felt an odd soothing. It was almost smothering, controlling in a fashion and yet familiar, this daughter of Janus understood turmoil, she knew what it was to be caught between identities and to fight down the voices even when it came to mundane things like choosing a Kine for dessert or a new shirt or which bird to turn into a football.

I grinned back at her, it was good to be with someone who heard the whispers, nice to find such an attractive and welcoming Kindred. "Do you have a name my bright eyed beauty?" I queried curiously. I should have remembered it, no Sarah should have, silly forgetful pest, ah perhaps she'd simply put away in a drawer and left it there burrowed beneath underwear.

The blonde gave me a woeful eyed pout. "How have you forgotten little old me?" She gave a soft giggle. "Well I suppose we were never formally introduced before but still I thought you would have been begging for my name but for revenge or seduction, who could tell? Well duckling, I'm the finger down your spine when all the lights are out. I'm the name on all the men's room walls-"

"I've got a giant dick?" I wondered aloud.

Her smirk widened and she let out a loud, happy laugh. "Oh my, do you sweetling? That can't be right but it's okay if you do, you're still cute to me."

I shook my head slowly and wondered why I had stumbled into this place again. Something was lost, something needed, something, someone, prey, the blood thirst, the collared goth, Alex, Xander, Moon Boy. Let it go, let her back in, let her control for once, she'd played quiet too long, this was her body too, share with Sarah, share...

"Too much going on in your head," the blonde whispered, "it wasn't so bad when you first came here. Ah but you're one of us now, into the chaos with the rest of us." She giggled again. "If you want I can soothe the hurt, let me kiss it better duckling."

Oh it was tempting, yes she was very alluring, ah so perfectly formed, long legs, large breasts, glossy hair, those plump lips but I, I didn't go for that, hmm but perhaps some of the other voices did? Certainly two did not want to resist. Oh but there was another, someone dear, someone older, more masculine, couldn't forget him.

The blonde frowned. "A Baron? I know a Baron," her frown deepened, "they're no fun sweetheart, trust me." I wanted to, she was the first to hear the voices, she would understand the predicament of Sarah, the little wretch's attempts to take control, she was so strong here. The blonde leaned closer to me, pressing her lips against my left ear. "You could still win the Chase you know, I may have won last time but he still runs. Maybe you should let Sarah have Chase."

Chase. With that one name came an invasion, images, words, names, memories, thoughts, dreams, nightmares. Let her in, cast out the voices, end the madness, and leave the darkness. Caught on a web, struggling, ah so many other flies, the daughters of Janus were there too, all of us screaming along this web, calling to each other, repeating and warning of the words of a large spider somewhere unseen in the middle. Fear, piss inducing terror raced through Sarah, through me. No more, she wanted it stop. This club, this night.

"What if it never happened? What if this was all just a long nightmare? Yes, still here, still in the club, a hallucination, no vampires, no Alexander, nonsense."

Ah but it seemed like peace would come with that idea. Oh Sarah you vixen, peace, calmness, a trap, a trick, an attempt to drown the voices and I, to end us! Oh Alex, had he faced such suffering with Xander?

"Chase still wants you Sarah, he has always thought about you, well," a giggle, "except when he's in the bedroom, I'm afraid I'm just too much of a distraction. Don't be mad though, I'm hard to resist, when I pout, the whole world tries to make me smile."

I looked at her, beautiful siren, such pleasing words trying to pull me to oblivion.

"Let your mind go, give Sarah a chance." She looked hard at me then and her image wavered, giving way to butterflies. No they were fairies, small glittering ones with silver tinged purple wings. Not the same as the Hollywood ones with their green and gold wings but similar I supposed. Yes how pretty they were, comforting. They began to fade giving way to darkness.

My head was pounding and my throat felt dry. I opened my eyes and found myself on a dark red barstool, perched against the bar at an awkward angle that had caused an ache in my spine. I sat up slowly, there was loud rock music blasting through my ears and flashing neon green and red strobe lights distracting my eyes. Club Asylum, that was where I was but how long had I been here and what time was it?

The barman was giving me a scowl, hmm grown impatient with me? "Do you need a drink?" he growled.

I shook my head as I pushed myself onto the floor, alcohol would not be a good idea. I needed out of here, out to the quiet, calmer streets where I could think. What had happened? It felt like there was a large blank in my mind. Dancing with the fairies... I shook that strange image from my head the moment it appeared. Time to get a grip, time to go. I hurried to the doors, pushing them open hard and found myself colliding with someone.

Ice cold hands gripped me tightly sending a prick of alarm through me. Honey tongued poet. Who was that? Where had that information come from? I looked up at him in surprise and found a bemused grey stare looking back. "So this is where you've been Malk," he addressed me chirpily, with just a touch of scorn, "dancing the night away when you should be doing his highness' business, and what was that again?"

Malk? Highness? "You've got me confused," I muttered.

"Oh ha ha," he said dryly, "you're always confused. Come on, why did La Croix send you here?"

"I'm not who you think I am," I said more firmly, "I don't know you and I don't know La Croix." Lying jester, no one knows him. I shook my head, ridding myself of that voice, it seemed louder, I couldn't let it win.

He frowned and gave me a scolding shake. "Quit it with the games, come on, I came all this way with you, you can trust me."

Trust no one, except the voices, safer with just the voices. I shuddered and oscillated my head. "Look I don't know you, seriously, let me go!" I raised my voice an octave deliberately to attract attention. To my relief a few passersby glanced our way curiously.

The man glanced about us and gave me a glower. "Very funny," he said sardonically, "but come on, getting the Kine involved? A little immature and risky, don't want to be upsetting the Cammy prince again, do you?"

Cammy prince? What on earth was this guy talking about? Was he on drugs? "I said get off me!" I kicked out with one foot and met the soft flesh between his legs. It had the desired result; he gave a howl of pain and released me. I shoved him off and ran for it. Home, I should go home but where was that? Strange, a thrill of horror raced through me as I realised I seemed to have an odd sort of amnesia. Where was home? 508, the numbers sang through my head, sanctuary, safety above the pawnmaster. Pawnmaster? Pawnshop? I ran down an alleyway, it was not far from here. I passed a door saying Blood Bank and paused for a moment as a strange urge filled me. I was thirsty; it was a small ache inside me but a persistent one. I ignored it and prepared to keep running when a shout alerted me to my pursuer. "Ariadne get back here!" I turned to look and gasped when an unnatural blur approached. It was too fast, it wasn't possible! I pushed against the door and flung myself in; there would be people here, safety!

Without thinking I hurried down the metal steps and then down a blue grey corridor lit with flickering, long, thin, white bulbs that badly needed dusted and changed. I paused at a wooden door and tugged at the handle uselessly, it was locked!

"Can I help you?" I followed the source of the voice to a window with a mesh net guarding it, a slit box near the bottom to let voices travel in and out and a gap at the bottom presumably for goods or cash. A sudden hunger filled me as the strong scent of blood rushed at my nostrils and made me dizzy, it was so strong, so tempting, it called out to me, making me almost salivate. I was glad when the man behind the glass' voice pulled me out of my disgusting thoughts and back to reality. "You next up for the needle? Hmm?" His voice was thick with sarcasm and his wide, blue eyes looked at me unconvincingly. I was a little alarmed by the hard glimmer in them, it made him look unstable.

"I need help," I babbled out before he could say anymore, "please I'm being chased."

"Chased?" he sneered followed by a laugh. "Hunters hmm, that it Betty? Well tough luck, you deal with that shit yourself." His lips parted and he gave me a wide, unsavoury smile.

"What? No!" I retorted as I looked up the corridor anxiously. There was no one there, yet. "It's some guy, he thinks I'm someone else and he won't leave me alone, please help me!"

He gave another laugh. "I'm not buying it Betty, I know what you are."

"Betty? Who's Betty? Look please, my name is Sarah, help me!" Could be Betty, one of us could be, so many voices, why did only two get named?

"Hmm." He looked contemplative for a moment, at least I hoped so, it was hard to tell with the way his eyes rolled about in their sockets. "Well normally it's employees only, rules of the queen bitch herself but you do seem troubled." He pressed a button somewhere beneath the window. "Door's opened," he said coolly.

"Thank you." I hurried to the door and pushed it open finding myself in another room. I heard a door open to my right and the receptionist appeared. He looked only a little older than me, dressed in plain, blue scrubs he had a handsome face although the odd sparkling in his large, dark blue eyes ruined it a little. His lips were big, a little too big for my liking and his golden hair hung straight to his shoulders, his fringe parted at either side. I thought it was surely against protocol but then that wasn't up to me. Besides, this was Santa Monica; the wild surfer hair was the in thing. "This way," he said calmly.

Danger. It was not so much an instinct as a literal cry in my head. I thought that perhaps the man had arrived and was coming for me but I felt that was wrong. No, this weird blonde who had started walking away, could it be him? No, he had opened the door for me, he was granting me safety. I followed after him.

He opened a door and entered another room. I followed after him and the stench of blood attacked me again. It was too strong, too enticing, I wanted to lick it off the floor! I fell to my knees and found my tongue stretching out to the aged blood spatters before I could help myself. Watch out! It was too late; the blow came to the back of my skull before I could stop it. There was a flash of pain and a flicker of red and then nothing.

Pain. It was in me, all around me. Something was sucking at me, robbing me of my nectar, pulling it from my veins without my permission. I stirred with a groan and found the blonde I had been so foolish to trust leering at me with a mad, wide smile. "It's always good to have an extra donor," he mocked. "Stupid vampire, did you really think I didn't know what you were? You're all the same, think no one can guess. I bet you're trouble, the queen bitch would probably thank me for this but who needs her thanks." He laughed and looked to someone on my left. "Look bitch, I brought you company." He snickered before striding out of the room calmly.

I cursed after him, spitting into the air in vain before I struggled with my bonds. I was strapped down on a chair, my wrists firmly cuffed down on the armrests and my feet on the footrests with thick, metal cuffs. There was a strange device attached to the side of the chair, a long, steel arm that ended in an umbrella of spikes, which were currently sunk into my arms, two on each one, the middle of the device hovering just above my waist. I could see my blood travelling up these spikes and followed them; they went through clear tubes and into blood bags. Was this how the donations came about then? They were stolen?

"Hunger...I need it...A drop of it on my tongue, sliding down my throat, the hot flash in my brain lighting up my body..." These odd murmurings came from my companion. I looked over and saw a pretty, pale redhead strapped to a chair like my own, being drained of blood just like me.

"Who are you?" I called out to her. How long had she been here, how long had he made her suffer?

"Huh?" She gave a groan and shook her head.

"Who are you?" I repeated. "And how long have you been here?" I was starting to feel faint and the smell of blood was making me feel thirsty again, almost to the point of nausea.

She looked over at me at last with a dazed olive green gaze. She had a freckled face and dark brows that suggested her golden red bob was not entirely natural. She was wearing a sleeveless, tye-dye boob tube and skinny jeans that helped show off her svelte figure; I suspected she was one of the many beach babes that hung around town. "Lily," she rasped out, "I'm Lily. I don't know how many nights it's been, too many, I was thirsty, so thirsty, I didn't understand." She tensed up slightly and gave me a worried look. "You probably wouldn't either."

Oh but I did for I felt that thirst now, it was burning through my throat, roaring from my stomach up through my body demanding to be sated but what with? With blood? I shuddered in revulsion, that was not natural; I was simply dizzy that was all, the blood loss, yes that was why I needed blood because it was being taken from me, that made sense.

"Who is he?" I demanded. "How is he getting away with this?"

"Vandal," she growled out, "that's his name. No one comes here except his helper and he's in on it. He keeps this place pretty secure..." She gave another moan and her head dipped. "I feel so weak, just a sip, that's all I need, I can smell it everywhere...blood." Oh poor little flower. Poor little me! Us! Sarah! Just Sarah, just me. I tried to take a deep breath but it just sent a painful shudder through my chest as if my lungs were no longer used to something as simple and natural and breathing. I ignored the sensation, I was panicking that was all, couldn't do that, had to focus, had to find a way to escape before the madman drained me completely.

Tick tock. Tick tock. Time's going by, need to think faster, tick tock the white rabbit's getting away, you'll be trapped forever Alice! I let out a feral scream, the voices, the endless voices! When had this started? Why? I couldn't remember, my parents, mother had always found me strange, it had made her cold and distant to me but father, he had said it was a phase, he had been gentle, oh naive father. I had tried to subdue it, to hide it and for a while, yes I had been successful for a while, kept them silent at the start of college, kept it from my friends. Now though, now they had come back.

"It's like I'm going to die," Lily groaned, "I'm so thirsty, it's calling to me! LET ME GO!"

I snapped to attention as a door opened and a man entered, I expected it to be Vandal come to mock us some more or take away the blood bags but it was someone else. I froze up, someone familiar but was why he here?

"A new recruit," he remarked curiously as he stopped and looked at me. His amber eyes widened slightly. Golden eyes, always golden eyes, they seduced me so easily, I knew someone else with golden eyes, his were brighter, not tainted with a brown hue like these, they were rich, they were full of intelligence and a guarded affection. "SS...Sarah?" he stuttered.

It felt like it had been ages, perhaps months but that couldn't be, could it? The start of college, a drunken fling, then another and another, I had wanted commitment but he had his studies. User! A flash of anger filled me, yes it had seemed that way, he had been kind, warm, funny and affectionate but he had spurned me all too quickly, abandoned me for his education, or so he claimed.

"Oh my god where have you been? Shit what are you doing here?" he cried out in alarm. He paused suddenly and gave both doors a guarded look before stepping up towards me. He was still handsome with that soft crop of golden brown hair that I had once loved to run my fingers through. Older than me, Phil was around twenty-four, a medic student judging by his blue scrubs he had obviously passed his degree and found a career. He was tall and toned, athletic; he had been a baseball and football player, giving up the former completely for his studies and keeping up the other only as a hobby. He had seemed like a wholesome boy next door, smart, safe and fun to be with. An act. Yes, I was beginning to realise that now as I looked back at him.

Bump. Bump. Bump. Bump. A heartbeat, a loud, fast, slightly spooked one, sending all that fresh, hot blood round and round. He came close to me and a wave of dizziness struck out at me as the scent and sound grew stronger. So close, I could see a blue artery racing up his neck, one tiny little prick that was all it would take.

"I thought you'd gone missing," he murmured.

"Did I?" I queried dryly.

"Right, you're here," he mumbled lamely. "But you haven't been here all this time," he pointed out. "I mean it's been months, everyone was worried, Samantha and your folks thought you were dead! And now Samantha's been missing a while, I mean it's nuts."

Samantha, she was dead but how did I know that? The thirst, it had been strong, overpowering, there was a flash of red, an image of a fresh corpse, one clad in black with tight, dark ringlets. Oh god, I swallowed hard. I felt so weak and lightheaded and so thirsty.

Lily let out a groan, and I glanced over at her. Her head was bowed, her hands and jaw clenched, she was aware of Phil and trying to ignore him, ignore the blood. The thought of it made me shudder, I needed it, needed that hot spark to jolt through me and give me energy, life, a power I could barely begin to describe. It was euphoric, it was better than sex, it was something not meant to be known by mortals, a dark gift, the taking of it was a sin and there was a price to pay. I shook my head violently; no I was not some kind of bloodsucker! It was the voices again, trying to trick me, trying to make me think these horrible things and turn me into something I wasn't!

"Get me out of here Phil," I begged.

"Er..." He looked at the door and I saw a trickle of nervous sweat slip down his neck. "You shouldn't know about this," he commented uneasily as he looked back at me with a wary yet sympathetic gold gaze.

"I won't tell," I assured him, "I won't."

"What about me?" Lily snapped. "LET ME GO!"

"I can't do that." Phil shook his head. "Not both of you."

I didn't know what to say, it would be wrong to leave the wallflower but it would be wronger to let myself suffer on her account. Phil made the decision for me by taking a ring of keys off his belt and reaching one out to my cuffs. "Vandal is going to kill me for this," he grumbled as he began to undo the cuffs.

"Maybe but my ghost will drive you mad if you don't," I hissed at him.

He paused for a moment to give me a dubious look and I grinned back at him promisingly.

"LET ME GO! LET ME GO! The thirst...it's killing me!" Lily screamed. "I need a taste!"

Phil hastened with the cuffs. "All this noise," he muttered, "it's going to draw attention." Click the last cuff was undone and the tubes where removed and I was free at last. Phil stepped back as I stood up tentatively. His heartbeats were a drum in my ear, almost to the point of bursting my eardrums. I could smell the salty tang of his blood, almost taste it, I was dangerous close...close to what though? I clutched my head with both hands. "I need out of here," I snarled, "before death's shadow falls on you."

"Ww what? Sarah what are you talking about?" Phil looked at me with worry. "You must be weak from the blood loss, look follow me, I'll sneak you past Vandal and up to the Blood Clinic. We'll get you blood there and make it right."

"Oh you barter in all types of the blood then," I mused, "well I'm not picky." I staggered slightly overwhelmed by thirst.

"Wait you're leaving me here?" Lily snapped.

Danger. I sensed it, the other captor, the mad one, he was close. "No time wallflower," I commented mournfully, "no time." I looked to Phil and he gave another look at the main door before gesturing to me with one hand. He hurried through a side door and I followed, shutting it behind me. He hurried down a corridor then through another door into an empty room with numerous cupboards, pills bottles and a computer. We moved through another door, down a corridor and then finally through one last door that brought us back to the corridor Vandal had been guarding. "Wait," commanded me. He strode on calmly and paused to look at Vandal's window. He looked back at me and hissed, "he's gone, hurry up!"

"Like a cheetah on roller-skates," I commented calmly before running up to Phil. He led the way upstairs, bypassing the door I had come through, instead guiding me up to the main part of the building. Bloodbloodbloodblood. I stumbled back, no this was too tempting, I could not go up here. The man in masks, the man in masks, violation, damnation. Lose control Sarah, let us feed, let us back. I turned and head back to the door I could through, better to risk the blur than taking someone's blood. I staggered back outside to a drizzly, dark alleyway with a single light for comfort.

I had to get out of here. Prawns and pearls and all treasures. I swallowed hard, gritted my teeth and tried once more to banish the voice. Still something compelled me on to the pawnshop and so I started running in that direction.

It felt like I had been running for hours before the pawnshop loomed in sight and all the time my head had pounded, a large ache had filled my stomach and dizzy spells had come over me. I was so weak, so thirsty. Perhaps I just needed some food or water, surely that would help me. I kept going down the alleyway beside the pawnshop, taking care to avoid the hobo than reeked of drink.

"Hey lady spare some change," he called to me hopefully with a glazed look. I ignored him and kept going, pushing open the door at the side of the building granting me dryness, safety and light. I paused and glanced at the steel mailboxes to my left. My moment of hesitation cost me and I found myself seized from behind. Before I could scream a hand clamped over my mouth as another tightened my arms to my sides.

* * *

><p><em>I found this chapter hard to stop writing I got so into it. Comment at the bottom this time because I didn't want to leave any spoilers before you guys had read this. I know this chapter is confusing, it's intentional and will be explained throughout the story, which is why I don't want to give away too much here. I've probably taken some liberties with the Malkavians, I did read up on them extensively on numerous websites but in the end I want to do my own thing for this fic but basically my understanding is that they are linked via the Malkavian Cobweb so if one is more powerful than the other they could influence the other deliberately or unintentionally.<em>

_Also had to get Phil in there, he's so unloved probably because his role is short and sweet and he even seems to change voices (from when you talk to him to when he intrudes on you freeing Lily). I gather that he was in on Vandal's business from the game from him talking about the 'special sauce' and Vandal saying his copilot was gone and that it's the same guy that you talk to that Lily kills despite the voice change from him calling himself Phil and Vandal saying 'there's one less Phil in the world', although in someone's version it did say Bill... Regardless it's the same guy here. I know the real Santa Monica is probably huge but in game it's not so much so I guess that's why Sarah knows everyone and they know her, she's from here and she went to college here until Alexander changed all that._

_Any queries or comments do let me know, it's appreciated but like I said, with regards to this new plotpoint it's going to be ongoing and revealed over time. Also, I did a replay of Bloodlines with a new patch and noted the Malkavian whispers for the first time, so I'm trying to include that more and I do direct quotes from the game to link it up better and get a better feel for the characters when I'm writing about them.  
><em>


	16. Chapter 16

I should have stayed with Phil. I knew that now, too late of course, and now I was about to be murdered by a madman who thought he and I were vampires. It had been the dark haired man who had approached me outside The Asylum; he had caught me at the entrance of the apartments, grabbed me and forced me up the stairs with a strength and speed I could not fight against. He had pushed me into room 508 and shut the door. When I screamed bloody murder and tried to escape several times, including out the window, he had bound me to the only chair in the apartment with his belt and gagged me with a red, silk handkerchief that felt horribly slippery against my mouth.

"I do not know what the fuck is wrong with her, when do I ever know that?" he roared down his expensive looking, sleek, black mobile phone. He had only just called the man and proceeded to yell irately down the phone at him about me as if the caller knew me. "If you were here Isaac you would understand there is a need for swearing!"

Isaac. It sounded familiar and yet... No I did not know any Isaac and I did not know this lunatic. It was mistaken identity. Multiple identities. That voice again, I shuddered and tried to ignore it. It sounded... No not real, this wasn't real! "LET ME GO!" I shrieked from under the gag as I had been doing for about twenty minutes now if not more. "LET ME GO YOU BASTARD! HELP! SOMEONE HELP!" I tried to be as loud as I could but it came out as muffles impossible to make out. I screamed and got a glare in response.

"Look either it's a very elaborate trick that she's taking way too far or she's finally stepped into the abyss of madness, I don't fucking know! Well look I'm sorry but I'm having to deal with this shit and I hardly know her, sorry I hardly know any of her personalities," he sneered sarcastically. "I mean she's a Malk they're lunatics at best, so maybe this is normal behaviour, well as normal as it gets, but I don't know! She's in danger of a bloody execution, freaking out in front of humans, seriously she thinks I'm trying to kidnap her or something." He paused to glare at me with furious grey eyes.

I glowered back at him hatefully, who was tied up here? Who was the hostage? Had he forgotten that detail or did he just not want his friend knowing that much. "YOU ASSHOLE! SOMEONE PLEASE HELP! HELP ME! I'M A HOSTAGE! HELP!"

"Well I'm here to watch over her of course." He paused for a moment and glanced at me again. Guilty, traitor, liar! The words hissed through my mind accusingly. "Well..." He dropped his voice low, perhaps so I wouldn't hear but I could. "She needs watched, Malkavians are liars even if they don't realise it themselves, she doesn't know what she's doing or saying half the time, as tonight has just proved in spectacular fashion. Hey look, don't get defensive I'm just stating the facts here! No one knows what she and that brat prince say to each other, we only have her word to go on, it's just her, him and his sheriff for witnesses. Look..." He paused again and let out a sigh. "Isaac, Nines cast her out, said he didn't trust her and he didn't want her help, made it clear she's not to work for the Anarchs anymore. Hey! Hey! Calm down! I know she helped out, I was there, I know that but Nines, he's edgy and paranoid thanks to the Camarilla making Anarchs disappear thanks to the rumours of Ventrue disappearing in Hollywood, things are just a little tense and Ariadne's somewhat in the middle of it."

That name again. I hissed and cursed angrily, that wasn't me! "I'M SARAH DAMNIT!" I screamed. "SARAH YOU ASSHOLE! LET ME GO!"

"Isaac I've already got her yelling at me, please don't start, I'm on your side okay but it is a little difficult to tell what she's up to and who she's working for and I can't blame Nines for not wanting to take a risk. He refused her help but she's still giving it to La Croix, sorry! Shit! Bad choice of words, okay? Isaac I didn't mean it like that! I just meant she's still helping him, that's why she's here, she's on his business but I don't know what that is or why she's doing it. Come on Isaac, just think for a second here, what does she gain by working for La Croix if it's not information to pass on to the Anarchs?"

Untrusting poet, the pretty ones are always so judgemental, stay with the fairies and munchkins, they know best, they trust. I shuddered, the voices were getting louder and the thirst was causing a very real agony to rush through my body. I bowed my head, slumping slightly as my vision flashed red. So thirsty, my throat was dry, my stomach ached, it had been too long, I needed nourishment, I would die without it! That heat, that sweet taste, just one tiny drop to savour...

"Yeah she could be doing it to pass information onto you," the dark haired man remarked reluctantly, "but you're in Hollywood, this is Downtown business really, it's the Downtown Anarchs the Camarilla are targeting. I mean, you're not threatened by him or them, and you didn't ask her to work for him. Alright, alright, I'll drop it for now; just stop yelling at me, I'm getting enough of an earful from her. Oh no, have a listen?"

I heard him approach me. Yes closer, closer, just a little inch further, and another, and... I raised my head up with a snarl and tried to fling myself at him. I felt the belt begin to give way as the chair shuddered forward with me. I collided into him as my teeth ripped through the gag and we both fell to the ground. Blood! It was a blur of reds with flashes of black. His tender flesh was so close, I had to taste it, had to bite it, just a little prick! The belt was growing looser, it would snap soon and then I could pin him. He struggled beneath me, his arms held down by the same chair that kept me just out of reach from him.

I snapped at him and tried to lunge forward again. CRACK! The wood broke as two legs gave way and I fell on top of him. My cheek brushed against leather before my teeth found flesh. I sank them deep and he gave a louder curse. BLOOD! It flooded up to greet me but only just kissed my lips before I was cruelly thrown away. "NO!" I had to have it! I hit a hard wall but it was not enough to daze me. I could not see, my vision was black but I could smell, yes it was fresh, oh so fresh and so close, I would have it!

"ARIADNE! ARIADNE!" That voice, tender, firm, controlling, I wanted to listen, yes some part of me wanted to hear it, wanted to respond but that part was weak and I ignored it.

A fist struck my face sending me reeling back again. "You little bitch, you bit me!" I tried to leap up again but found myself suddenly entangled in a blanket. I snarled as I tried to free myself but just found my limbs becoming further wrapped up in it. BLOOD! Fuck I could smell it, it taunted me, it was too much! I would die without it!

He moved too quickly, causing the scent to dance around the room tauntingly. I turned my head as quick as I could and tried to move at it but I was far too slow. I was the carnivorous tortoise and he the hare. "One minute," he grumbled, "I need to go to that Pawnshop." Then he was gone, taking the scent with him.

My body took over then, guiding me through the haze of reds and blacks. I collided with several counters and sent a plate crashing to the ground. The thirst was unbearable, it needed sated and now. It was in control... Blood... I paused for a moment, I could sniff some still, yes it was close, closer than I had realised. Ah of course! I lifted my right wrist up to my teeth and broke through the skin.

It tasted wrong. It was wrong! I was trying to drink my own blood, what the Hell was wrong with me? This was beyond insanity! I fell to the ground and started to cry, I could not take this! This thirst, this unnatural need, this man, the names he mentioned, vampires, the voices, no it was not real! It was not real!

"Oh shit, what are you doing?" He was back, his blood drifted to me through the air causing another snarl to escape me but I was too weak, too broken to pursue. Tempted though, I found myself lifting my wrist back to lips and sucking on it again. It was bitter and cold, not what I needed, not what I wanted. I was a disgusting monster. A sob escaped from me, muffled by my own flesh. This was his fault; he had caused all this to happen with all his talk of vampires!

He came at me again and moved so quick I could not fight him or stop what he was doing. Before I knew it I was tied and gagged again, this time with rope and a handkerchief of cotton I suspected. "Hello? Hello? Isaac. She bit me that's what happened, yes she did! She's really lost it! She's frenzying right now, well shit how am I supposed to do that? Just lure someone up here? She'll kill them and then I'll have a corpse on my hands and I can't untie her anyway, she'll flee and probably cause a bloodbath."

A bloodbath? No I wouldn't, I couldn't, I wasn't like that, I was human, I was Sarah, why didn't he understand?

"Look you need to send someone out here, it will be dawn soon and who watches her when the sun's up huh? Well what if she doesn't sleep? What if she gets out and cooks herself? Look even if she does sleep I can't do this every night, I need help figuring this out, figuring out what's happened to her. Put you on to her? Well alright but she's not talking back, because if I take off that gag she'll scream the place down and the police will be called and then we will both be screwed."

I heard him approach me again but I could not see him, the reds and blacks weren't fading and I began to worry that I was now blind. "Ariadne?" That voice again, it was distorted, a crackle in my left ear. It made the tears flow faster down my cheeks though I had no idea why. "Ariadne, why are you being this way? Kent is your friend; he is trying to help you, granted you may be angry with him for mistrusting you but he still likes you and he doesn't want to see you executed by the Camarilla, and neither do I. Whatever this is, it's not you, I know you are a Malkavian but this behaviour, it's uncharacteristic even with your madness. Please Ariadne, be yourself, be the beautiful, mad, spirited vampire we know."

"YOU DON'T KNOW ME! MY NAME IS SARAH! SARAH! SARAH!" I screamed it over and over until I thought I would go hoarse.

"I don't know what she's trying to say Isaac, probably just trying to get attention. I really hope she does just slumber when the sun comes; I'm already tired of listening to this. I don't know, I saw her last night and she was her usual idiotic crazy self but then I found her tonight at The Asylum and she was like this, acted like she didn't know me, like she remembered nothing about being a vampire. Yes, The Asylum, it belongs to the Voerman sisters, Jeanette and Therese. Eh not much, I'll check it out but I can only do that if I know someone's watching her. I can't risk letting her go who knows how many violations she will commit if I do. No, I know, getting her blood is going to be tricky.

No Isaac if you've important business deal with it, besides Therese might take it as a threat if you show up here; she runs things pretty tight in Santa Monica. Right thanks, bye." Another sigh, he was still close to me, still taunting me with his blood filled veins. My skull ached, it was a migraine pulsing through it and stretching down the back of my neck and my throat setting my skin on fire. I was feverish yet there was no sweat on my skin. "Sun's here in an hour Malk, please sleep," he begged.

Sleep? How the Hell could I do that? Never mind the agony and the blindness I was suffering, I was the prisoner of a madman! Who knew what he might do to me if I dared to sleep? I told myself I would stay awake; perhaps try and escape when he slept as he seemed to imply he was going to do.

I heard him shuffle about for a while, locking the door, checking the windows, hunting through cupboards, groaning and muttering about dirt, roaches and germs before he seemed to lie down on the bed. Then he rolled and tossed about, grumbling about lumps, stains and bedbugs before he finally went silent. By then my migraine was almost paralysing and my blindness had dimmed, the room was almost visible again though it was cast in a horrible, red light. I wanted to take action, to do something but I felt terribly exhausted.

My eyelids grew droopy against my will and I felt my muscles begin to sag; I was suddenly so tired but why? Drugs? Had he drugged me? No he couldn't have, I had drank nothing, felt no injection, no but then what? Helios is coming, time to sleep and welcome the sandman.

Blood. Right in front of me, soaking my lips, inviting me to taste it. I opened my mouth and tried to sink my fangs in ravenously but I was restrained by a tight grasp on the back of my skull. "Take it easy," I heard the voice of my dark haired captor command firmly. Was it his blood? I was revolted by my urges but unable to resist, I needed this, this would end the dizziness, the pain, the blurriness, it would all go away with this. So torturously slow I lowered my fangs against soft, hairy, warm flesh and savoured the blood seeping out of a modest cut. Tangy, salty, hot and somehow not as foreign to me as it should be. No I knew this blood. Impossible! No one knew blood! No one drank blood either! What was I doing?

I wanted to pull back, I tried to urge myself to do so but the voices shrieked at me, told me to keep going. Mother's bloody milk, suck at the teat, be nourished. More, more, more. There was a low groan and the grip on my skull tightened and yanked me back brutally. I gave a shriek and squirmed, fighting against it. More! More! The grip was stronger than me though and held me in place until the scent of blood drew away.

For a moment there was a ringing in my ears, perhaps the bells of elves, and then everything seemed calmer. I was able to open my eyes and take in my donor.

"Hello there sugarpuss." What a vulgar thing to say but then the speaker did look sleazy. "What have you been up to?" He was a male somewhere in his thirties, dark gelled back hair shaved short at the sides, fair skin, faint stubble, small, olive green eyes, a strong jaw, a large mouth, a pointed nose and long ears. Not a model but not bad looking either, he could have come across as an average man who liked his beer and women if not for the strange glimmer of experience and wariness in his eyes and the shotgun clasped casually in his right hand. Shotgun!

I screamed and a hand immediately clamped around my mouth from behind. "You really need to stop doing that," my captor snarled scornfully. "I mean my ears are about to bleed and frig knows who you will attract with that noise. Seriously, if you don't stop I'm going to gag you with a sock, understand? And it will be a smelly one, I promise, even if I have to find tweezers to lift it with."

I nodded; I didn't want gagged again, especially not with a sock of all things. The hand went away and I eyed the shotgun and its holder nervously. He had not even flinched when I had screamed. "Are you...are you going to kill me?" I stammered.

The man with the gun laughed. "A bit late for that."

"What?"

He looked past me to my captor questioningly. "Isaac wasn't kidding," he muttered.

"No," came the annoyed reply, "she's gone mad even by Malk standards, has somehow forgotten she's a vampire, despite the rather obvious blood drinking there."

I swallowed hard and tasted some of that mentioned blood. It made me feel sick but I resisted the urge to throw up, the last thing I wanted to taste was vomit.

"I see. So she's forgotten everything?" The olive eyes were back on me with a somewhat thoughtful glance.

"Wondering if she remembers that one time in the shack?" my captor queried tactlessly.

In the shack? What? I looked at shotgun man and saw a very slight tinge of pink creep up his neck. "Er...that's hardly important."

"No," came the dry retort.

"Let me go," I pleaded, "please, I'm not who you think I am, my name is Sarah. Just let me go, I won't tell anyone about you, I swear."

"Sarah?" My captor came into my vision, stepping round from the chair and blocking the man with the gun from view.

I nodded hastily. "Yes Sarah."

"Hmm..." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Your Kine name maybe," he muttered.

"Please," I begged again, "let me go. I haven't done anything wrong; I just want to go home." Yes home, where was that again? Here in Santa Monica of course, yes had to be, that made sense but it didn't feel right. There was somewhere else, somewhere with stars...

"Wow she really is screwed up," the second commented in a husky voice. "Is she from here?"

The dark haired man, Kent was it, three names, just one more than us, shrugged. "I don't know, could be, only Alex and she know that and he's as screwed up as her."

Alex. Friend, sire of a sort, prisoner body, mind and soul. I shuddered; I knew the name, a redhead... I had to get out of here, this man, his words, he was making me think things that couldn't be true. "I am from here," I said with fresh conviction, hoping to try a new tactic, "and people will know I'm gone, they will be looking for me, the police will."

Kent shook his head at me. "I'd say they gave up months ago if they looked at all," he murmured, "but all the more reason to keep you locked up here. Don't want mum and dad finding out what you are or the Camarilla are gonna get pissed and I don't think even your precious prince will step in to save your head."

I shrank back from him, wondering what he was talking about. Off with her head! Wandered too far down the rabbit hole haven't we? Well best find the White Rabbit then and follow him out.

He stood upright and glanced over at the man with the shotgun. The crypt keeper, yes he was fun, so sad with the graves but free now, yes free to play. "Crypt keeper," I muttered in confusion.

The man perked up at that and grinned. "That's me, Romero, so you remember something then?"

"No," I snapped with a shake of my head, "I don't know you, either of you!"

Kent sighed dramatically and waved his hands in the air dismissively. "That wonderful jaded foresight of yours, sometimes useful, sometimes not and as frigging reliable and truthful as a broken clock."

"Hmm yes my sight is green sometimes," I murmured. What? "This is you," I snarled, "you're driving me crazy! You're crazy!"

For a moment the grey eyed man looked astonished and when Romero burst into laughter he immediately looked furious. "I'M NOT THE CRAZY ONE!" he shrieked. "DRIVING YOU CRAZY? YOU'RE THE ONE PRETENDING TO BE HUMAN, YOU'RE THE ONE SCREAMING AND CRYING AND YELLING! YOU'RE THE ONE WHO'S A FUCKING MAD MALKAVIAN!"

I flinched at his yelling and when he went silent I said calmly, "shouting erratically, definitely a sign of insanity, never mind holding a girl against her will, making her drink blood and talking about vampires, yep, you're definitely the crazy one here."

He spluttered for a moment, lost for words, before letting out another string of profanities and turning to Romero. He pointed at him almost accusingly with one finger, "you mind her, I'm going to get to the bottom of this, and no funny business."

Romero looked offended at that. "What do you take me for?" he asked dryly.

Kent shrugged. "She's tied up, maybe you like the kinky stuff, how should I know? You shoot zombies and have sex with vampires; you're obviously into weird shit."

Romero said nothing, merely gave a bashful yet agreeing grin that unnerved me. He shot zombies and slept with vampires? These guys had to be on drugs. Oh no, no drugs for the bloodsuckers or the ghouls, poisons the blood, tastes so foul. No, no, perfectly sane, everyone is, so boring, except for her, daughter of Janus, like us, hears the voices. Got to us through the voices, came down the cobweb, nasty spider, and... "Enough!" I clenched my fingers beneath the rope, shut my eyes and willed the voices away.

"Mad," Kent said flatly before he walked towards the door. I heard it open and shut quietly before I opened my eyes again.

Romero was leaning against the bed with his shotgun leaning beside him whilst he busied himself with lighting a cigarette. Oops a lie, nicotine is a drug, no hallucinations, no fun. He glanced over at me and inhaled deeply. "So what exactly do you remember?" he queried in that deep voice of his.

I stared back at him, surprised that he even cared. Surely he was like Kent, somehow convinced that I was the liar here or the one with amnesia or whatever the theory was. I thought hard about it, what did I remember? It was a tangled blur of out of order events that gushed through my mind, sometimes mere flickers, sometimes a full film screening of events of my life. I could not think where I lived, when I had last been at college, when I had last seen Samantha or spoken to my parents. The clearest thing in my mind was finding myself in The Asylum before banging into Kent. "I was at a club," I admitted, "The Asylum, then I went outside and bumped into Kent. He thought I was someone else and he chased me and I ran into The Blood Bank, bad choice though because that place seems to be run by a psycho."

"Really?" Romero looked intrigued.

I nodded. "Well I say psycho, maybe you and the vainpire would think he's downright normal."

"Vainpire?" Romero snickered at that. "Nice pun, don't think Isaac would approve much but I like it, the Toreadors are certainly vain."

Toreadors? Isaac? That name again, it brought up a faint image of someone, someone kind and obsessed with beauty and inner depth and so certain that I had a beautiful personality, so fascinated by my many mad quirks. It couldn't be Isaac, I didn't know any Isaac. Was it someone else?

"So this psycho, what happened with him?" Romero willed me to continue my tale. I wondered if he was looking for me to give him witnesses he could eliminate, people who might otherwise come save me. I thought of Phil, he had helped me but then he was working at that sordid Blood Bank too and he knew what his companion was doing; in fact he was helping him.

"He tied me up to a chair where some other girl was and stole my blood and hers; it's the least fun game of musical chairs I've played. I got away thanks to a friend and then I ended up here where Kent ambushed me and tied me to a chair because he's convinced I'm someone else, someone he mustn't like too much."

"A friend helped you," Romero honed in on that detail, "so you are from here then."

"Yes!" I snapped. "So believe me, someone will notice my absence pretty soon and come looking for me."

He shrugged. "It's not something you'd want," he said, "not really. Your kind can't be with Kine you know, it's too dangerous, you try and keep everything secret but it doesn't work and then you're left with three choices- turn them, make them a ghoul or kill them. The first choice will get you and them executed if you don't have permission, the second, it's really not for everyone and you're not meant to do it to friends and family, rather people who can be useful to you, ghouls...well I can admit it, we're glorified servants, and not much more. Then we have your third option, probably easier for a Malkavian than a Toreador but then again you've done that at least once that I know about and you didn't cope so well with it."

"What?" I stared at him, the cryptkeeper's bath, what a bloody mess, oh dear bad pun. Poor Sammy, still missed her, such a waste.

"I didn't know the details at the time, Isaac filled me in, although he wasn't entirely sure himself what happened. You're mad and you've got fangs, it's a lethal combination, especially for those who know nothing about you."

"You know nothing about me," I snarled angrily, loathing him for portraying me as some sort of insane murderer.

"Well I suppose I don't," he admitted nonchalantly, "your Isaac's and we...well it made things difficult. It's probably best that we're just well...whatever we are, I mean I like you but he..."

"Cat got your tongue? Most annoying when they do that, worse when mice get your ears, though it doesn't happen as often, they're not as crafty as cats."

Romero gave me an odd look before continuing on. "I don't understand you and Isaac, that is, I don't get what it is that he feels for you, not that he would share with me but whatever it is, he's pretty strong about it but then all Toreadors are strong about all emotions, it's their curse or blessing, depending on who you talk to."

"Again with the Isaac and the Toreadors, I have no idea who or what you're talking about," I grumbled. Liar, naughty, naughty, your nose will grow!

"Well let's see now," Romero looked thoughtful as he took another puff from his cigarette, "Isaac is the Baron of Hollywood, he's an Anarch, which is kind of ironic because they're meant to be all about equality so surely they're against having things like Barons, but don't mention that to him he gets annoyed about it. Anyway, he and you have some sort of odd relationship that started a few months ago, or so I think, but I didn't know about it, I didn't even know about you until you showed up in my hut one night." He paused and grinned widely. "And what a night that was. Something Isaac was well, let's say less than happy about. Although you must have said something to him because he calmed down a bit and decided he just didn't want to know, but why you er...wanted to be open, well I don't know. I mean you're nice and I'm up for whatever even if you are well...batshit crazy but I mean I'm not sure it's a good idea because I don't get the deal between you and the Baron."

"Are you hitting on me?" I queried tentatively.

"What? No!" he answered quickly with a dismissive wave of his hands. "Er well...maybe, not now though, when you're back to being you, maybe then we'll work something out if Isaac really is okay with it. I don't get it though and I think I'm going to stop talking about it now because I don't really like the look you're giving me."

I was glowering at him furiously, willing him to just stop talking such nonsense. "I thought I was dangerous," I reminded him, "and crazy."

"Well you are," he retorted casually as he stubbed out his cigarette on the bedpost, "but it doesn't bother me, a lot of people are dangerous. Personally I think the Toreadors are worse, at least you're openly nuts but they hide their nature; they try too hard to be human, which makes them very deceptive. People would be wary around you unless you're using your powers but not around them, with all that beauty and style and the way they talk, people would be lured in very easily."

"I see." I didn't but I felt like humouring him, he was better company than Kent after all.

Silence fell and during it the burning thirst returned, starting as a dull ache in my throat that spread down to my chest and stomach and to my brain, tormenting it with thoughts of hot, carmine liquid. I gave a low moan and stared at Romero carnivorously, I could hear his blood pounding through his veins tauntingly. He had so much of it; surely he could spare some more of it. Round and round, it was an endless river of red and I was parched for it.

"You know your eyes are turning red," he commented to be coolly as his right hand grasped his shot gun.

"I need the red fire," I murmured, "oh the life giving liquid, yes I need it, I need it's heat, just one drop," I groaned.

He glanced down at his arm and I realised it had healed, hmm that was fast, not so mortal after all then. Was anyone these nights? I needed it though and was I not going to wait while he debated the matter. "Feed the pony," I said as I locked eyes with his, "let the pony have a little nibble on the carrot."

His eyes glazed over slightly and he looked down at his arm dubiously. "Carrot?"

"Yes, let me have a bite, I'm a hungry horsie."

He glanced back up at me, still suspicious and yet willing, I could see it in his eyes, he was almost perfectly complacent. I flinched back and shook my head, what the Hell was I talking about and why was he believing it? Oh but the blood, I was so thirst for it but why? I wasn't a vampire!

He stepped towards me inching closer with his arm slightly outstretched but then he paused and shook his head. "Shit," he cursed as he looked at me warily, "you were playing mind games weren't you sugarpuss?"

He took a step back and pointed his shotgun at me warningly. "I'll shoot you if I have to," he said sincerely, "not to kill of course but I'm sure it will still hurt."

There was a red tinge around the edges of my vision and I could feel a sharp ache in my stomach. A low growl escaped me and I snarled, "fuck you! I need it! I NEED IT!"

"Stop it," he said warningly, "or I will shoot."

"Go ahead; you'll bring the cops straight to us!"

"Hmm well that is a good point," he admitted and I cursed myself for reminding him of that, "well alright, I'll just stick a sock in you then."

"Just let me feed," I begged, "please, it burns, oh it aches, I just want that nourishment, that sweet, salty taste."

The door opened and Kent strode into the room with a miserable expression. "Well Therese was no help," he grumbled, "cold Ventrue bitch, says she has no idea who you are or what might have happened to you." He eyed me in annoyance. "Says her sister might know but of course she was out, I'll have to call back later and hope for an audience. I can't find any other vampires in town who might be helpful either, there was a ghoul in the club who said his master might know but he's in hiding and he's a Nosferatu to boot so it's highly unlikely that kind of filth was at The Asylum. Shit Ariadne if this is a game you need to stop, okay?" He leaned down and into me, holding my gaze with his own furious, grey one. "I can't figure this out, what happened to you or why and I'm not getting answers about town. The vampires around don't know you."

"And I don't them because vampires aren't real," I retorted heatedly.

Kent cursed and then gave a groan. "Why do I have to be babysitter?" he moaned. "I'm too loyal to the cause, that's the problem, I should have just let you go but Nines thought you'd be up to Prince business, thought we could get something useful from you without you even knowing it. Can't trust you, can't openly use you but somehow can still follow you," he muttered, "it's all a wonderful irony, isn't it?"

"So you've been following me to what, exploit me?" I demanded. "Or whoever it is that you think I am because I'm not her, I'm Sarah, I'm a human."

He flinched slightly and had the grace to look sheepish. "Er..."

"Oh dear," Romero commented in a humorous voice, "you've slipped up."

Kent turned, probably to shoot the ghost guardian a glower. "Ah I don't care anymore," he grumbled as he turned back to look at me. "You don't even have a clue who or what you are, you're probably not even going to remember this when you do come back to your senses or half-senses as it may be in your case. Nines didn't want you working for the Anarchs but he didn't want you working for the Prince either, the less help the Prince has the better and he doesn't trust that you're not giving the Prince information about us. He realised after though that maybe you could give us useful information that we could trust if you didn't know you were giving it, i.e there would be no reason to suspect you were lying because you would have no motivation to, although you are mad and clearly have several personalities so then again..." He sighed dramatically and touched a hand to his pallid brow. "So Nines had me come with you in the hopes that I could find out what business you were doing for LaCroix, in case it was business that might harm the Anarchs but of course you had to just conveniently forget yourself, your business and everything else, which I suppose it's probably penance for my treachery."

"Penance for your treachery," I repeated dryly. In truth I wasn't sure what on earth he was babbling about, all I gathered was that he had betrayed me or the me he thought I was or my doppelganger or the other us. Pretty ones are always good at deception.

He nodded with a softened glance at me. "Yes," he admitted quietly, "I betrayed you and I didn't stand up for you and even though really it should be expected, I mean you are a Malk whether you remember it or not, you are a danger whether you want to be or not and you do work for the Prince, whether it's a ruse or not and yet...well damn I do feel guilty. Personally I think it's Isaac's influence, he's making me believe maybe you're not all that bad although you're certainly pushing it these nights."

Isaac, the Prince, Malk, it was making my head spin as was the thirst. The red tinge was beginning to take over my vision now and whilst Kent's words had been a distraction the thirst was coming back again. I let out a low groan and doubled over, it was a horrible, overwhelming need that I could not control or subdue.

"Ah great, frenzying again," Kent muttered, "this really is my night."

"You can't keep her tied up forever," words of advice from the crypt keeper.

"I know that but I can hardly let her go like this, she'll murder half the city, committing several Masquerade violations and bringing down an executioner and the police on herself."

"Blood," I moaned. I could picture it, smell it even and almost feel its watery tingle on my tongue.

"Maybe she needs to go back to this club," Romero suggested, "that's where you think it all started, right?"

"That's a potentially good idea," Kent agreed grudgingly. "Why does Isaac have you shoot zombies when you've got a brain?"

"Because I get to shoot zombies," Romero said in his happy deadpan voice, "and as far as I know I'm the only person around Hollywood who considers marksmanship an art."

"Right."

"Look I'll let her drink from me again if you hold her," Romero offered, "but we can't do this every night. Take her back to the club, either you'll find a way to fix things or you won't but it can't get any worse than this. Besides, if she runs you can catch her, you bastards are fast."

I felt Kent's hands grasp my skull tightly. "I suppose," he grumbled.

Blood. Right in front of me, so tantalising close! I sank my fangs in without hesitation and sucked longingly like it was the nectar of the gods. Romero was certainly right about one thing, I couldn't do this anymore, if I wasn't mad already then I soon would be, kept captive by a guy who claimed to shoot zombies for fun and another guy who thought he was a vampire.

* * *

><p><em>A lot of dialogue in this chapter I know but given the situation I think it makes sense, well as much sense as it can from the POV of a Malkavian who's lost her senses. I have to say I definitely love writing Romero and Kent's roles, always had a soft spot for Romero in the game, felt he and Isaac had a lot more potential than showed. Little bit more about Sarah, which I guess is what this arc of the story is about, AriadneSarah's past life in Santa Monica._


	17. Chapter 17

Back to The Asylum, this time I was escorted arm in arm with Kent whilst a reluctant Romero agreed to linger outside in case I escaped. I considered crying out to the drunks we passed but I doubted they would take me seriously and Kent had promised to rip out my throat if I tried. The place was packed when we entered, but then it was a Friday night and there was nowhere else in Santa Monica. Alright there were other bars and one other club I was aware of but The Asylum had always been the place.

Heavy rock music pounded from the worn, black speakers, people fought for the large, tattooed, freakish looking barman's attention and the scantily dressed barmaids who wore low cut, tight, black, belly tops, studded chokers and short miniskirts that were black, red, chequered or tartan. I recalled being envious of these barmaids once, thinking that if I had their enviable figures and confidence I might be able to impress him. Him, who was he again? His name was just out of reach, a whisper too faint to hear over the others.

I shuddered, perfumes, aftershaves, alcohol and stale vomit stank the air, almost nauseating me, I wondered if everyone had just gone to extra effort because it was a Friday but I was suspecting it was something more than that. Kent pulled me into the crowds and made an effort to bury us amongst them. Judging from his smile and leering grey gaze at several scantily clad patrons who smiled back at him I was getting the impression that the pretty poet wanted me gone.

"Why don't you just let me loose and have some fun?" I suggested.

I wasn't quite sure how he managed to hear me over the music but he did and rewarded me with a wilting stare.

"You have no loyalty to me rebel," I said icily, "so let me go. Just forget you ever met us."

"Oh that I could," he lamented with a scowl, "but do you really think Isaac would forgive me for that? No," he chose to answer himself. Hmm was I perhaps not the only one who spoke to themselves? "He likes you, who knows why, Hell he loves you, so if I let anything happen to you I can safely assume with regards to the Baron, my ass is toast."

Loves? Someone I had never heard off loved me? Oh don't lie Sarah, not to yourself, can't keep that deception up for long. Just amnesia, a fun game of memory loss. I shook my head angrily, trying to silence the voices once more. "Well that's nice," I muttered dryly, "but you could lie, tell him you lost me, that someone else took me, I don't know but don't subject yourself to this." I tried my best to sound persuasive and gestured to a group of women somewhere in their twenties with skinny bodies, tanned, supple flesh, slender throats, ah pulsing throats... "You could have any one of them tonight," I murmured softly. Anyone would do, just one, one little bite. "You could be rid of me for good, just let me go and we will pretend it never happened. Go on, look they're smiling at you, do you really want to give up a chance with them to mind me? I mean, what am I to you anyway? Is this Isaac guy so important? Is he worth all this hassle? Will he really never get over it? Are you going to get over it if you miss out on a night with them to try and what...restore my memory? What if that doesn't even happen and you've wasted your chance for nothing?"

I could tell that my words were having their desired effect, for one thing Kent had yet to interrupt me and for another thing, he had not stopped staring at the silvery blonde, blue eyed beauty who was giving him a shy, hopeful smile. "The timid looking ones are usually best in bed," I lied, "and nicest to taste. They have the sweetest blood." Yes, it was so sugary when it came out with each panicked heartbeat. Not quite as good as unicorn's blood drizzled on stuffed peppers might be but close.

Kent's hand slackened and I took the opportunity to slip free from him. I pushed myself into the crowds, determined to get lost on them. As I wandered through numerous people shouting at one another, giggling, singing and drinking, I realised I did not know where to go. Romero was at the front doors with a shotgun barely obscured beneath his coat and whilst I did not think he would shoot someone in such a crowded area I was not certain of it.

In my confusion and my efforts to avoid elbows, glasses and feet I ended up bumping into someone. Strong hands reached out to steady me as I turned my head up to apologise. I felt myself go still as I was assailed with images, memories. A night here in The Asylum, the last time I had seen him, I had dressed up for him but he had gone with her. Jeanette! The name hissed through me in a jealous, resentful voice, she had taken him, she had taken other things too, memories thought to be hidden away in a shoebox under my bed, she had taken them, confused me, yes I was so confused...

"Sarah?" His voice drew me back to reality, or a shadow of it, and I found myself staring bashfully at his curious, frosty blue eyes. "I thought you were missing," he remarked with a degree of suspicion in his voice, and, I hoped, relief.

"I was," I admitted quietly.

He looked about him and then said, "come with me where it's quieter, I can't hear you." I let him pull me across the dance floor and up the metal stairs to a section of black chairs and tables, most of them occupied. He guided me to two seats at a round table in the corner where it was indeed quieter and sat down. I sat down opposite him, unable to tear my gaze from him. This was Chase, the man who I had fantasised about for years, my college crush he was a fellow art student, creative in a mad manner, producing paintings of Gothic horror. Yes, such a stereotype but how I had adored it. He still had the Mohawk and the wonderful collar with its sharp spikes, he was still wonderful Chase. "Where have you been?" he demanded.

With a zombie hunter and a guy who thought he was a vampire? Hmm maybe best keep that quiet, send a postcard later revealing that information. "Aaround," I stammered lamely.

He gave me a warm smile that sent a tingle through me. Ah we liked the tingles, how they tickled, haven't felt it in a while, only with the Baron and the grave guard. The grave guard? Hmm I didn't want to think who that might be. "I missed you," Chase confessed, "more than I thought I could, it's good to see you again." Ah he was better with words than the poet, what a delight!

"It's good to see you too," I retorted sincerely. The one that got away and into the clutches of an overaged school girl with raccoon eyes and huge breasts. Ah well, couldn't blame him, hard to resist the costume and the breasts, not many men who could.

He glanced about the room again, wincing slightly as the song changed to a more pounding, rockier one before returning his gaze to me. "Look, I know it's a little out of the blue but do you want to head somewhere quieter to talk? Maybe the diner? I mean I know it's sudden but ever since you left, well I thought about you a lot and the things I would say to you if you came back and then days turned into weeks and then months and I thought maybe the chance was gone and you wouldn't come back. So I guess, well you're here now and I can't wait any longer, maybe I'm impatient to tell you things because I've built it up for so long or maybe I'm afraid you'll slip away again before I can talk to you, I don't know, but are you free? Can we get a coffee?"

Yuck, caffeine's no good to us anymore; keep us up to fry in the sun, no something warmer, something redder. I made an effort to suppress these thoughts and the longing to press my lips close to the pulse on his neck and nodded eagerly. "Yes, sure," I said quickly. I then paused remembering the man with the shotgun, hard to forget that one. "Er...but...well this is going to sound weird but I'm being followed," I confessed. I loathed having to tell Chase this, fearful that it would scare him off but I had to, "there's a guy and he's dangerous and he's waiting for me outside."

Chase looked serious and gave a solemn nod at my words. "We'll slip out with a crowd," he said, "and lose the bastard. You can wear my coat, maybe that will help." He reached out across the table and gripped one of my hands, sending another tingle through me. "Don't worry though; if he comes near us I'll protect you." And get your guts splattered all over the ground, how wonderful. With that grim thought I contemplated rearranging our meeting but who knew if that would happen? It had been so long and I had missed an opportunity with him once already, I could not do it again. Besides I needed to get out of here before the psycho Kent decided he had made a mistake in letting me go and if I slipped out arm in arm with someone then maybe he wouldn't notice, and Romero might not either.

"Alright let's go," I said.

We stood up and Chase swiftly took off his leather jacket and bundled it around me. I wondered how he was able to deal with wearing such a heavy thing in the club but then considered that I did not feel warm so maybe he didn't either. I hugged it close, savouring the scent of him and dead cows, before allowing him to link hands with me and pull me close. He led the way down the stairs and through the crowds to the doors. We stopped there and waited for a young group of guys and girls barely out of school to leave and slipped out with them.

I fretted that Kent or Romero would stop us but when we left the grounds without incident I relaxed a little. Chase gave me a confident smile before pulling me down an alleyway.

"Help me," a plea called out from ahead causing us both to halt.

Phil. Why was I hearing Phil's voice? There was a form up ahead in the alleyway beneath a dim, flickering light. I focused in on it and saw him, not so handsome anymore he bore a large, swollen, black eye, a bloodied nose, an inflamed lip and other injuries unseen save for a few telltale crimson stains on his clothes. Oh the smell made me shiver, I needed a taste, it was just too tempting.

"Help me," he begged again.

Chase released my hand and ran over to the man. "Shit what happened to you?" he queried in shock.

"I was attacked," Phil rasped. "I think it was some punk kids, I don't know, please help."

"Look the clinic is nearby," Chase said calmly as he reached out two hands to steady the blonde, "we'll take you there." He looked over at me for help. "Sarah quick, help me with this guy."

I owed Phil I supposed but I was afraid to approach him and let him see me, and yet how could I leave him like this? How could I leave Chase like this? So with reluctance I hurried over, avoiding eye contact with the man and trying to keep my face hidden behind my hair. I gripped one arm and Chase the other and between us we helped him limp in the direction of the clinic.

By the time we reached the clinic I could feel my tongue salivating, my head screamed danger at me, I supposed because biting someone in public would be a very foolish thing, especially someone who was injured. His blood had leaked onto me though, it was just too tempting and when I was certain I wasn't being watched I had taken two licks and then almost vomited with disgust. How could I do this? Why did I like the taste?

When we entered the receptionist with the brunette bob looked at us in repulsion. "Phil!" she shrieked in horror. "What happened? Who are you people? What's happened to him?" she babbled.

"Just let us take him to a doctor," Chase growled out sternly.

"But..." She made to protest but we ignored her and the other gasping, wide eyed people and hurried on.

Chase led the way, barging into a surgery room where a dark skinned doctor with dreadlocks stood looking at a chart with a frown. "Quick," Chase snapped at him before we deposited Phil on the surgery bed. "He needs help and fast."

"It was here," Phil stammered as his golden eyes rolled back in his head, "it was-"

"Don't talk," Chase cut him off swiftly, "save your strength." He looked to the puzzled doctor sternly. "Come on, help him!" he ordered. "Call a nurse, do something!"

"Alright," the doctor grumbled at last as he composed himself, "but you need to get out of here, clear the room!"

We backed out hastily, Chase leading the way up the corridor to avoid two nurses who had come running, summoned by the speaker. Chase stopped, leaned against the wall, swept a hand through his Mohawk and sighed before looking at me. "Not quite the date I envisioned," he joked.

Date, ah the word sent a thrill through me, one which even Phil's predicament could not ruin. Be wary, watch for the cracks, mustn't step out of line and fall down a hole. I shook off the voices, but I could not lose the thirst. This clinic reeked of blood, it drifted out of every room, wafted up and down from the floors above and below, seeping through the cracks and vents, it was just too much. I swayed slightly as a dizzy spell overcame me and felt Chase's hands reach out to me.

"Come on," he murmured, "there's a coffee machine downstairs, not quite the diner's quality but we can grab a cup while we wait to see if that guy's okay."

I nodded weakly against him, too afraid to open my mouth in case I could not resist a bite. I could hear the blood pounding through him, it was fresh and there was so much off it, it was almost impossible to resist. I felt him lead me down a corridor, through a door and down some steps.

"About time."

TRAITOR! The word screamed through me, a warning too late as always. Ah Sarah you know some Judases don't you? I looked to Chase in surprise, hoping for confusion in his eyes but there was only a cold satisfaction. His grasp on my wrist tightened and before I could resist, he stepped behind me and grasped my other wrist as well. "Here as requested," he said brightly.

"As who requested?" I demanded hoarsely. How had I been fooled again? Oh Sarah first a honey trap then a wounded lure, too easy, too easy!

"The queen bitch's twin," Vandal answered me with a sneer. "She's nicer with rewards and easier on the eye too."

I swallowed hard and sank my heels in; I would not go back to that torture!

"That asshole Phil nearly blew the plan," Chase complained, "started becoming delirious with pain and babbling. You beat him good but you should have knocked his jaw in or cut out his tongue."

"Maybe next time," Vandal murmured with a smirk, "Phil's useful yet, unless you want to volunteer to round up the blood bags then I can't replace him just yet."

"No," Chase said with revulsion, "Sarah is the only exception and that's just because Jeanette asked me."

"Oh well aren't you a good little Ghoul," Vandal jeered. Ghoul? She made him her slave, no chance for you then, the blood bond is strong, too strong. "Now bring her over."

I screamed and screamed and kicked and flailed. Vandal cursed and I felt his hands at my ankles as he tried to hoist me up. I kicked his chest hard but it did not slacken his grip. They were beating me. You're weak Sarah, let us back, we're strong, we're not human, you're not human, stop with the games now. No, no, no! Chase was normal, I was normal, two college students at a club, that's all it had been. No vampires, no Ghouls, no- DENIAL! NO DENIAL! Alex, Xander, Alexander, Moon Boy, a beach, Samantha, a sandy embrace, Chase, a violent one, and then a final one in vain. No, no, no!

They were taking me back! Through the door, back to the flower, back to the blood raping, back to bondage, back to imprisonment!

BANG! I felt something damp soak my scalp before Chase's arms immediately lost their grip and my head smacked off the floor.

"Aw fuck," Vandal cursed. He dropped me and when my eyes rolled up to him I saw him standing with his hands in the air. It might have been a comical sight if I was not so dazed and scared. "Don't shoot," he let out a nervous laugh, "she'll kill you if you do. You don't want to piss off the Baron do you?"

"Maybe not," I heard Romero's calm, sardonic, and very much welcome voice, "I've already pissed off one Baron, met the quota I think. Still, maybe you want to back off a little more."

Vandal obediently stepped back. I tried to push myself up but the dizziness was getting stronger and I could not focus. My vision flickered to red and I let out a snarl. I rolled over and sat up to face the man groaning behind me. Chase was slumped against the wall, clutching his right arm and groaning. His arm was drenched with blood, it was a deep wound but he would live if it was treated. If... Time to cull the traitors, let's set an example; let's end the thirst, two birds, one stone.

Chase noticed the look I was giving him too late. "Oh no," he stammered, "shit she's going to bite me!" He looked to Vandal for help first and then to Romero. "Don't let her! You'll have a corpse to explain! Jeanette will have your head!"

"She's frenzying," Romero remarked calmly, "and if it's down to me or you, well I don't mind losing you."

I sprang for him. He screamed only a little before I tore out his throat and gorged on the blood that came gushing forth. Jeanette, the puppet master, used Chase to exploit me, to trick me and poor Phil, a punished pawn. Why though? What had I done to deserve such hate? When does madness need an excuse? It was all a game to her. The memories came as I continued to drink, three vampire attacks in one evening, the execution of Moon Boy, my faux sire, and my forced servitude to Prince Sebastian. I had escaped his shackles in the starry town, submitting myself to the Baron's affections for a while. I had had to return to the Prince, business with Anarchs and the Camarilla, a dangerous game, I tiptoed on a rope between them, oh I liked them both in truth, but Isaac had my love. Nines called me traitor, rich irony given I was the one constantly betrayed. Now here I was, here for the one name relic hunter.

Chase, my crush, polluted and twisted by a mad vampire bitch, and now dead and cold like poor Samantha. Why was it Kine I knew? Was I killing off my life, Sarah's life? I recoiled from his body and threw up. Then the sobs came, I wasn't Sarah, yet I was, Kent had spoken the truth, this was no nightmare but a reality, I was the undead, cursed physically and mentally. I was Ariadne.

"We should go." Romero, he had followed me here, he had rescued me when I should have done it myself. Oh but I had been forced into pretending I was human, the daughter of Janus had committed this wicked deed. A cruel game but amusing I supposed, nice to see how dull Sarah had lived, not so dull after all. I let out another sob, poor Chase, poor Phil, all of us cursed, all of us doomed. I heard Romero crouch down and sensed his wary, olive gaze. "What's going on?" he demanded.

"I knew him," I confessed, "Sarah knew him, Sarah liked him, thought it was love, now he's dead, just meat and flesh, all a waste, another corpse like Samantha."

"You remember then," he murmured approvingly.

I nodded. "Too many things now," I said mournfully, "there's not enough room in my head. Sarah's gotten bigger, greedy bitch wants more space in my mind."

"Right."

"And now Chase is in me too," I felt another mouthful of vomit and swallowed it, "with Samantha, it's getting crowded. Just two voices might be nice, maybe three," I clutched my skull with both bloodied hands and winced, "it's loud and it hurts." I felt the tears trickle down my cheeks. "Why must I play executioner to lost friends?"

I felt his hand reach out tentatively to my shoulder and I burrowed against him seeking a comfort I had been deprived off. "Er..." He was hesitant and tense with nerves but then at last he put his arms around me, continuing to clutch his shotgun in his right hand. Vandal was gone now though, scurried off at Chase's death. "You can't help your nature," Romero murmured, "and that guy, he knew what you were and he still thought to screw you over, he was asking for it."

I could believe that, Chase had betrayed me, but why? Was it because he was cruel now or because she had bid him to do it? He had been Jeanette's ghoul, poisoned by her blood and yet... Romero was a ghoul but his devotion to Isaac was not without limitation. He had taken me in when I had killed Samantha despite fearing the Baron's disapproval. I nuzzled against him, exhausted with my mental debates and denials. I did not want to listen to the voices just yet, I did not want to think of my duties and games, I just wanted peace.

"Come on," Romero said, "we can't stay here." He urged me upright and led the way out. We sneaked out through the side door undetected, back to a cool evening in a deserted alleyway. That was until a frazzled Kent appeared in a blur.

"What happened?" he demanded as he looked at my bloodstains scornfully. "I've been looking everywhere for you!"

"How did you lose her?" Romero queried calmly.

I glowered back at Kent, I was a burden to him, he had betrayed me, then he had stayed with me only to keep Isaac's approval and then he had left me all too easily. I had been fragile, I could have been broken or drained and he had let me go to wander to my potential end. Ah I had been a burden though, a screaming, delirious, forgetful one. A violent one too as I remembered, his temporary curse because the Baron willed it, because the number man willed it. Had to find out the Prince's secrets.

"I don't want to play with you anymore Kent, and I know you don't want me to either. Tell your number lord that the jester prince wants some beach doughnuts."

"What? Are you back Malk? About fucking time!"

I flipped him off and sidestepped him, naturally he blocked me. "Go back to town," I told him, "I don't need false friends."

"What are you talking about?" he demanded in annoyance.

"You left me for some pretty baubles, guess they turned you down though, did your craft fail you word master?"

Kent frowned. "You told me to leave you!" he protested. "That's beside the point though, I realised it was just to get rid of me and I came looking for you."

"You're a bit slow," Romero commented earning a glower from the vampire.

"You got rid of me," I said dryly, "and you would have done it sooner but then you wouldn't know about La Croix's doughnut fetish. The secret's out now though, he likes the jelly ones best, so run tell the Anarch clan."

Kent pointed at me with a heated look. "I looked after you," he snarled, "when you thought you were a human, you would have fucking fried if it wasn't for me!"

"You did it for others; you call me the Prince's slave, whose slave are you Kent?" I queried with a smirk. "Who makes you stalker and traitor?"

"Fuck you," he snapped. "You told me to leave you so I did, you told me to have fun, and now that you've come to your senses, well half-senses in your case, you're giving me shit. I minded you, stopped you from sun bathing and committing some Masquerade violations, I protected you, mostly from yourself, but I still did it."

"You had some help," Romero chimed in with a hint of annoyance.

"You work for others, just like me," I mused happily, "you are untrustworthy like me, why three names we are but the other's reflection, save for the betraying, I've never done that, hmm guess I slipped up with the copying there."

Kent frowned and sighed. "I said I was sorry for betraying you," he grumbled.

"Ah a good trick," I praised, "a continuation of the betrayal concealed beneath an apology, I have been falling for tricks too easily here, must be the sea air corroding my senses. Chase could have learned from you." I froze up at my own words, Chase, so recently dead, it had been quick, a small comfort. He had gone like Sam, murdered by a friend. I shook my head as I felt the tears again, wretched Sarah, her presence made me weak. "No more Kent," I murmured, "I don't want your company." I turned from him and wandered off.

"I...well...shit..." Kent stammered.

"It's going to be sunrise soon," Romero muttered as he started to walk beside me.

I nodded; I could feel a familiar weariness overcoming me. I needed rest, I needed oblivion, but I did not want to suffer it alone. I turned to the grave guardian and queried, almost shyly, "will you stay with me?"

He nodded without hesitation. "That's what I'm here for."

"Isaac really is okay with it," I said softly, repeating his words from last night. "He is fond of me; he likes my personality, considers it a beautiful tragedy and I'm fond of him and the funny way he talks," I mused, "and makes the voices go quieter. He makes me feel and think strange things that no one else can and I think I do the same for him. You though, it's different with you," I looked at him but he avoided my gaze, "I have fun with you too crypt keeper, a different kind of fun and you, nothing bothers you, you just accept...me."

He nodded. "Well I've met worse than you," he joked nervously.

"Isaac questions, it's his nature, and he listens to others, he doesn't want to anger V.V and Ash, they mean too much to him," I murmured. "Without Alex he would hear their complaints about me and think on them, even if Ash is just being dramatic, I mean I only set his car on fire once."

Romero snickered.

"You don't care though; even when the Baron gets angry you don't shut me out. He won't get angry now though because he gets it I think, better than I can, he's emotional, he understands things like this."

"So what exactly do you want?" Romero asked cautiously.

"You, and him."

"Separately, right?"

I nodded, laughing at his worried expression. We had reached my apartment now, the dump La Croix had gifted me so generously with. I led the way up and in through the door, Romero followed and shut it. I lay on the bed and curled up against myself. Words were enough, no action tonight, I was not yet myselves. I needed to grieve, I needed to rest and forget. Ah but forgetting had caused too many problems already. I just needed to accept.

An hour later Romero joined me quietly, putting his arm around me loosely and lying behind me. He said nothing and tried nothing. I wondered if he had noticed the tears, if they bothered him or if he simply needed to lie down, there was only one bed after all. I moved into him and he did not protest, then I waited for sleep to take me.


	18. Chapter 18

One week, one week since Chase had died and the madness of Sarah had lost control. One week of wandering through the streets of Santa Monica, never straying into any building except my own hovel, heading out only to feed from Kine before returning to try and entice Romero into a dance beneath the sheets. It was only on the fifth night that he had finally given up resisting, but only after I had wrestled the Baron's consent from him down the phone, albeit in an awkward, somewhat subtle manner. It had been a relief and a joy to hear the Baron's voice, though he claimed the joy was his, I wondered which of us felt it most. I had praised Romero to him, made murmurings of hunting a hunter of artefacts and promised to return. Kent I did not mention and when Isaac queried about him I was forced to hang up to chase away thieving fey, what a terrible coincidence.

Isaac had informed Romero that 'he did not wish to know of his deeds, that the affairs of Santa Monica stayed in Santa Monica, that he could do as he pleased without fear of reprimanding so long as he acted with discretion and that he kept me safe.' Romero had muttered some nervous retorts of consent and a string of promises before the conversation ended and he accepted that the Baron would not cut off something the grave guard, in his own words, rather admired.

So for two nights now we had made the soiled sheets of my cheap apartment even dirtier. It was as I awoke on the seventh night that I considered resuming my duties. It was a woeful thing to ponder but then the Prince would grow grouchy and there was a whiff of relics in the air, my dear treasure hunter was bound to be close.

I jumped with a squeal when a loud ringing called through the room. Romero grabbed his shotgun with a grunt of alarm before giving me a glower. "I thought we were being attacked," he grumbled.

I pointed accusingly at the bringing black beast. "I thought it dead but it must have been a slumber, now it's awake and angry!"

"Right, right, just answer it crazy cat," Romero dismissed me with a gesture to the phone.

I approached it tentatively and dared to grasp the receiver.

"Hello." A sharp, cold, feminine voice called out to me.

"Ah voice in my head!" I said appreciatively.

"Afraid not," came a snarl. "Got the right Kindred then, good, that saves some time."

Ah not my voice, what a shame, just the dark daughter of Janus. "What does the esteemed ruler of the Lady by the Sea want with little young me?" I queried curiously.

"Well to be frank if I could avoid needing you for anything I would but my sister has acquired a new pet and she's become so obsessed with him that she's neglecting business. Now normally I'm glad to see Jeanette distracted and out of the way but the club is a prime source for income and more importantly, I do suspect this pet of hers might be of some importance to the Hollywood Baron." She sighed. "At least that's what Jeanette's bragging, I've never heard of him. Nor do I care to learn anything more about him; personally I don't think much of Anarchs-"

"But you're a Baron," I commented in confusion.

She gave a cool, dismissive laugh. "Yes but then I saw sense and my fealty will soon be pledged to the Camarilla. However, despite my viewpoints I really have no wish to upset Isaac-"

"Because he's got a badass army," I commented brightly, "and the pretty Anarch has pretty friends."

"Yes," she said curtly, "well, if you could come get him, that would be great."

Hmm back into the lion's den? A poet was in the silken clutches of the white daughter then but he was a traitor. "What prize do I get for this?" I queried.

"Prize?" she retorted in indignation. "Isn't he your friend?"

"No, we parted ways, most tragic, he shall write poems of Sebastian's doughnut fetish now."

"What? Oh forget it, I just want rid of him, what do you want?"

"Well it shall be hard taking a toy from the spoiled princess, very hard and she had done some damage to me already, a grave risk." I nodded solemnly and grinned at Romero, thinking he might appreciate my choice of words but he merely looked curious. "Can you tell me of the relic hunter?"

"The relic hunter?" she echoed.

"Yes, yes!" I said eagerly. "Tell me where he might be spied and I shall come steal the poet pet for you!"

She gave a dramatic sigh, ah how Ventrue, to let one's annoyance be so heavily felt. "I would suggest either down at the beach, considering there has been mentioning of treasure thought to be buried there-"

"ARR pirate booty!"

"Or," she continued on loudly, "he will soon be at the Gallery Noir," her voice became smug, "because I am holding an exhibition there, one about our history, which should certainly interest him. Of course it's all quite subtle, lest you think the Kine will get suspicious."

"Him?" I chortled. "You know it's a him."

"Well," she repeated with a slight fluster to her voice, "there's only one relic hunter worth finding and that's Beckett, most Kindred know of him."

"I don't, now I feel left out," I pouted.

"Right, I've told you what you need to know, come get my sister's pet, you'll find them in her room on the top floor of The Asylum, that's where she keeps him."

"Alright but no mind games, let's play Twister, I like Twister!" The dial tone was my answer to that suggestion.

"So," Romero spoke in his deadpan voice, "what was that all about?"

I turned to him and smiled. "We must go to the Gothic dance floor and save dear Kent!"

"We're saving the vampire you called a traitor and whose company you said you didn't want anymore?" he queried dryly.

"Yes, 'twas in exchange for a favour, now I shall be able to find the knower of history and please the Prince, perhaps then he will tell me secrets for the Baron's ear."

"So you are working for the Prince for Isaac then," Romero murmured.

I leaned out and patted his dark head, earning a frown in retort. "Of course. Now, back to the witch's den, bring the boom stick, the mind messer might need slain!"

"Oh sure, because that won't bring trouble on us," Romero grumbled sardonically even as he strapped his shotgun against him and put on his trench coat to hide it. "And how exactly did the Toreador end up in this situation to begin with?"

I shrugged and smiled again. "Wants to prove loyalties, can't resist a legal schoolgirl, likes the way she makes tea, who knows. A sacrifice, devotion, poor poet has a dead heart."

Romero shook his head. "I will never get used to the way you talk. Let's just go if you're insisting on this. Me, I think it's stupid and dangerous, but then I do like dangerous," he said thoughtfully.

I grabbed the crypt keeper and pulled him out of the room, down this stairs and outside to a drizzly evening. I released him once we were outside and we walked side by side to The Asylum.

The club was busy as usual and I had to use some Hysteria to clear the crowds from the bar. When a young woman burst into laughter, doubling over and clutching her waist with both hands I could almost feel Romero's accusing gaze on me, ah it reminded me of my lovely stern Baron. I skipped up to the tattooed ogre and grinned.

"You," he grunted as he polished a glass with a filthy rag.

"Me!" I retorted happily with a smile. "I'm here to see the mischievous white daughter of Janus."

"Riight...why?" He paused to look at me with a cautious beady gaze.

I leaned across the bar, sticking out my chest as I did, it worked for other women so why not me? "I'm a new dancer and Jeanette wants me to model some thongs for her."

Suddenly he was cleaning super fast and there was a faint tinge of pink at his neck. "Lucky job for some," he grumbled as he attempted to compose himself. "Go to the left, back wall; I'll hit the button for you." He pressed a button under the bar.

"Many thanks. Oh and if you leave the glasses out at night with a jar of honey the elves will do the cleaning for you," I informed him merrily before turning and skipping towards the lift.

Romero followed closely and queried, "so that thong modelling, do you fancy maybe doing that later?"

I giggled as I reached the lift and marvelled as the button glowed when I pushed it. The doors opened with a ping and I jumped in. I was disappointed to see only two buttons, one for our current floor and one for the second, no secret floors alas, at least not with lift access. I wondered curiously if there were secret passages through the walls as I hit the button and began to hum along with the lift music.

"I still don't get why we're here," Romero murmured, "or why the Toreador is here."

"Oh the marvelling mind of a poet," I retorted as the lift stopped and the doors opened. There were red walls that looked like they badly needed a new coat of paint, wooden floor, an unused desk and a single door into the dragon's lair. "Have faith Sir Romero," I said enthusiastically, "and have the boom stick ready for the demon within."

"Uh huh, I'm sure using a shotgun on the head honcho's sister will be a great idea," he retorted sardonically.

I nodded before reaching for the handle and pushing it down slowly. I then opened the door into Jeanette's idea of a love dungeon. Against the far right wall was a king-sized, heart shaped, crimson bed with silk sheets and a Kent shackled to it with furry handcuffs and only a plump, crimson pillow to give him any modesty. Some odd music played out of the speakers and there before the bed was Jeanette with a black riding crop in one hand.

"So...is he in trouble or are we just interrupting?" Romero wondered in his deadpan manner.

Jeanette whirled round to glower at us and I glowered back. "Back again kitten," she addressed me with a smirk, "looking for some more memories?"

"No just a poet, some carrots, a can opener, a phoenix egg, and a new bat key ring will be fine thanks," I retorted merrily as I scanned the room, avoiding Kent. On the left side was Therese's domain, a computer on a desk with an antique wooden chair, a large, expensive Persian rug and some interesting paintings. The room seemed to be two perfect halves, met in the middle at the wall behind us with a large portrait of two identical, young, blonde, creepy eyed girls and an imposing grey haired man behind them.

"Why are you here?" Kent queried in surprise.

I looked back at him and felt my fangs poke out as a sudden flash of thirst raced through me. Dear Kent had some interesting marks on him, cuts, bites and bruises, all freshly made and rather deeply too. "You have some odd interests," I informed him curtly.

"I have odd interests?" he snapped back at me. "This coming from you."

"You're the one shackled to a maniac's bed," I retorted as I raised my hands to my hips and stuck my chin up in the air in a form of ignorance.

"Maniac?" Jeanette wailed. "Duckling that's harsh, all I did was play a little game."

There on the web, reaching out to me, kindred spirit, open the doors, let them in, we do so enjoy similar company. Yes, let her in, let the pain go away, let the confusion be silenced... She had such seductive grey eyes.

"Stop that," Kent growled out in a feral tone worthy of a Gangrel.

I flinched and looked around in surprise, what had I been doing there?

"We have an agreement Jeanette," Kent strained himself to look at the deceptive schoolgirl attired vampire. "You play with me instead."

The blonde pouted. "Oh but I want both," she said sulkily before giggling and turning back to Kent. "She's so much fun, especially Sarah." She glanced back at me venomously. _Sarah, Sarah, wants control, wants it all just to be a dream. Poor Chase is dead, Samantha is dead, Ariadne murdered them, Ariadne should die too. Let Sarah back, Sarah doesn't kill friends._

"STOP IT! STOP IT!" Someone was shrieking, someone was grabbing my hair and pulling hard, how rude, someone was making my head ache, making me confused. "STOP IT!"

"Jeanette!"

"I'm sorry Kent, you've been my umbrella on a rainy day but duckling here is something different."

_Sarah is the sane one, Sarah is the normal one, she will make it all stop, no more voices, no more confusion, no more- _

A blur moved towards Jeanette and I watched as she tumbled to the floor with a squeal. I turned to Kent in slack jawed astonishment, didn't think he would hit a girl, what a gentleman!

"Oh that wasn't nice," Jeanette squealed as tears filled her eyes.

Kent rubbed his wrists and flexed them as he glared down at her. "You broke the agreement," he snapped at her. "I said you could play with me if you left her alone, fuck I let you spank me and bite me, I mean what the hell?"

"Do you like getting spanked?" I queried curiously.

Kent spared a glower at me. "Not now Malk," he growled at me. "Leave her alone Jeanette, she's Isaac's if you fuck with her again he will send his troops here and maybe you don't care about that but your sister just might. More to the point, screw with her mind and I will set your bed sheets on fire."

"You wouldn't!" Jeanette flung herself at his feet and howled.

Kent nodded before he moved once more in a blur. The wardrobe doors opened and clattered shut and he returned to us, now decently clothed. Ah how handy that speed must be, particularly when one wanted to a snare a Pegasus, they were fast beasties!

"I'll do it and I'll take your rubber duck collection and send it back to you in pieces!" Kent vowed as he rubbed a hickey on his throat absentmindedly.

"You are such a bastard," Jeanette cursed as she stood up. She turned to me with a vicious gaze. "This is your fault!" she accused me. "You have to come here and ruin all the fun, why? I let you have Chase! Why can't I enjoy the Toreador without you interfering?" She frowned at me. "Can't you share?"

I shrugged. "Your sister traded useful words in exchange for the liberation of the poet; she thinks he's bad for business."

"What? How am I?" Kent demanded.

"Are we done with the liberation yet?" Romero queried, evidently bored.

Jeanette screamed and suddenly I felt as if something was tearing at me, trying to pull something out of me. Laugh, laugh and laugh and be sick, round and round the merry go round, when it stops off Sarah will jump. Laugh, laugh. The snickers escaped me before I could help it. Yes, laugh, laugh then scream and vomit and-

Kent grabbed me and marched me from the room and Jeanette's lure. I was shaking when we returned to the lift and trying to contain some giggles. When we returned to the ground floor, Kent ushered us out of the building and only when we were safely away from its grounds did he stop. He looked at me, gripped my shoulders tight and shook me. "Who are you?" he demanded. "What are you? What's your name?"

"Only three questions," I retorted brightly, "or is it wishes? Hmm choose carefully anyway."

He sighed. "You're still you, good. What were you doing here anyway?"

"Therese asked me to get you," I said sincerely, "she didn't want you dragging down the business or distracting Jeanette. She gave me clues to the relic hunter."

"Relic hunter?" Kent echoed.

Oops said too much, silly tongue, how dare you betray us!

Kent studied me waiting for more but I said nothing. He sighed. "You know I was there for you," he told me. "I knew Jeanette would be after you, after you killed that ghoul, so I went to her instead. She agreed that if I let her play with me she wouldn't try to play with you instead."

"How did you know of the ghoul's death?" I queried. "Do the voices talk to you too?"

"Er no, only Alex manages to be a mad Toreador, I'm quite normal. I investigated after you stormed off and found the body and another Ghoul who I," he grinned, "persuaded to talk."

"I'm sure that was a real sacrifice," Romero taunted, "getting tied up by a chick like her." I could almost sense the longing in his voice. Romero did have such strange fetishes; he appreciated my outfits more than anyone else.

"It damn well was," Kent defended himself, "she's nuts and violent." He rubbed his neck again. "There was no pleasure in that shit believe me, well... okay maybe some, she's not bad looking but fuck, she's a Malkavian, only other nut jobs would sleep with them and enjoy it."

Romero and I exchanged a look and then turned simultaneous glowers on Kent. He looked back at us nonplussed. "What?"

"So you bedded the dragon to save the damsel?" I queried.

"Damsel," he sneered, "don't flatter yourself kid, but yeah, I made a sacrifice for you," he leaned close to me, "to prove my loyalty to you once and for all. Whatever you're doing I'll keep it quiet from Nines, okay? I swear."

"Thus rendering your presence here pointless," Romero pointed out cheerfully before I could.

"Hey I'm still useful to you two," Kent replied moodily before turning his grey gaze on me. "So Malk, are we friends again?"

"Can we build sandcastles?"

He sighed. "Fine."

I let out a cry of delight and grabbed him in a hug. He leaned back in surprise and half-lifted his arms before relaxing. "Well Nines is going to be pissed when I return with nothing but hey, I'm sure it's totally worth it to build sandcastles."

"It will be when the shrimp people come and thank us for their new homes," I assured him.

"Great, great, come on then Malk, I need to feed and I'm sure you do too."

I broke from him and nodded.

"Let's hunt then."

"I'll go back to the apartment," Romero said.

"Which apartment?" Kent queried suspiciously. "That rat infested dump?"

"I think they're just abnormally large mice actually," I pointed out. "Or miniature squirrels dressed as rats to avoid suspicion."

Kent shuddered. "Go back to the one on Main Street," he looked at Romero, "Main Street 24, I forget the room number, just go for the vacant one."

Romero glanced at me for confirmation. The luxurious home of a missing guest, with the fleet footed princely ghoul and a hunter of bounties for company. I nodded, it would do and it would be nice to break in a newer bed. "Back left," I instructed. He nodded and then headed off.

Kent led the way to our hunt. He found a couple for us to follow and we walked at a discreet distance waiting for them to wander into a quieter area. "You know something," I said brightly.

"What?" Kent grumbled.

"Have you ever noticed there are no female cops about?"

"What are you talking about?" he retorted. "Of course there are."

"Well I've never seen one."

"Don't you have a police getup?" he queried.

I nodded happily. "Yes but I'm only a legal cop in the centaur lands."

"Of course you are Malk, of course you are."

We pounced on the couple when they headed into a car park, which was otherwise void of life. As I savoured I caught flashes of Sarah, calling Phil when she was drunk and had failed to chat up Chase, always jumping into Phil's bed to let him use and abuse her when she couldn't get satisfied elsewhere. Getting kicked out the next morning because he had his 'studies'. I tried to shake the memories away as a dog would shake off water but they clung to me like glue. Ah poor Phil, would Vandal kill him for his almost treachery or keep him alive now that Chase was dead and help was hard to find? Chase, oh stupid Sarah had such a soft spot for him!

"Pull back Malk," Kent said before tugging me back from my prey.

I turned on him with a snarl of annoyance and fought against him to go back. More blood, I needed it, it created such a wonderful fire within him, such a beautiful burn. Kent was stronger though and held me tightly until I gave up.

"You really need to stop feeding like that," he scolded me, "and don't kick either, it hurts. Seriously, I'm just stopping you from making a terrible Masquerade violation."

"You don't care for the rule makers," I scorned.

He shrugged. "Not really but there are more of them than you and I and I don't think your darling prince would enjoy hearing about your violations."

"Maybe not," I relented, "or maybe bad girls turn him on."

"Well that's an image I didn't need or want."

"Like you getting spanked by a crazy schoolgirl?" I queried innocently.

Kent scowled at me. "Alright, fair play," he grumbled, "come on; let's get back to your boyfriend."

"The zombie shooter isn't my boyfriend," I retorted as we started walking, "just my casual, long living, mortal lover."

"Oh, silly me for misunderstanding," came the sardonic reply. "Well whatever he is no sexual activity of any kind while I'm around, I don't want to see or hear it."

I pouted but gave no retort. Maybe if we were extra quiet Kent wouldn't even notice. When we reached the apartment however my plans were thwarted as Kent made Romero take the couch in the living room whilst he took the bed for himself, saying he needed the comfort. He then forbade me from cuddling up to Romero in the living room, and only after I nipped him a couple of times did he agree to share the bed.

I managed to fall asleep as the sun started to rise despite having only one pillow and a foot digging into my lower right leg.


	19. Chapter 19

Dusk, it came with clear skies and a warm breeze, which I welcomed as I skipped out of the apartments. Tonight we were going to build sandcastles!

"Have I voiced my desire for you to go back to Hollywood yet?" Kent queried Romero with a pointed look as they walked beside me.

The grave keeper sighed and frowned back at him. "Yes, several times," he said dryly.

"And why don't you? Ariadne is, well not sane, but...hmm not normal either, well she's Ariadne," Kent remarked awkwardly. "Your work is done, go back to the Baron."

"The Baron said I could stick around for a while," Romero answered calmly in his deep, deadpan manner, "so I think I will."

Kent scowled. "Well I assume the Baron also said for you two to keep a distance," he grumbled.

"No," I answered cheerfully as I smiled over at him, "he said what happens in Santa Monica can stay in Santa Monica."

Kent gave me a disapproving grey glower. "Well so long as I'm here, no messing about between you two."

"You've said that several times," Romero commented dryly.

I giggled and said, "we'll be tidy, I promise." I then turned and hurried on, heading for a familiar shortcut. Through the car park, to the left, and down the stone steps. The car park was used for beach goers, having been built intentionally at the back of the pier entrance, the steps were a quick way to get to the beach. We reached them in no time and I hopped down each one, humming as I did. I wondered if I might spy a mermaid or a selkie or find a sea serpent's egg in the sand, they were particularly tasty when fried with bacon. We reached the underground tunnel and I sprinted on ahead across the cobblestones, the smell of salt was strong in the air now along with bird poop and melted ice-cream and I could hear the faint crackled calls of some soft stoner's soulful voice.

I halted on the short strip of golden sand, now a greyish-brown in the moonlight, black where the shadow of the pier hit it. They were here, the surfers, the stutterer, and the prophetic gypsy.

"_Can't you do that elsewhere?" A voice, male and Australian. "This is the only safe turf we have, don't draw attention to it."_

"_Mind your own Thin Blood," a male retorted in a hiss._

"_Ccc...come on...we...we just ddddon't want any trouble," another man stuttered. "Ppplease."_

"_I can't do this here with you snivellers, you're ruining the ambience," the angry male grumbled. "I wanted this to be beautiful, perfect," he murmured, I thought to me, "here beneath the moon amongst the waves." He sighed and I felt a hand at my chin, turning my head and bearing my throat up. "It will have to do."_

"Malk?" Kent drew me back from my memories, from Sarah's memories. Here Alex had tried to turn us, me, the Toreador side of him had wanted it to be beautiful and scenic but the Thin Bloods had ruined it with their fearful protests and babblings.

"You're in the wrong place."

"Says who?" It was Romero who answered the flat, firm voice.

I turned to look at a young woman with a black bob, golden brown skin, thin eyebrows, large, dark eyes and sharp features. I met her eyes and saw a glimmer of madness within them, ah but it was indeed thin like her blood, perhaps if she was not so removed from the family she might be on the web with me, listening to the spider call out to us dear flies. One of the voices called to me, "All are blind whose eyes are closed." An interesting sentiment I thought as I nodded to myself approvingly.

The woman looked at Romero and flinched slightly. "You reek of the dead," she informed him coldly.

"I knew it!" Kent cried out accusingly as he whirled round to glower at Romero. "You two were at it!"

Romero scowled back at Kent and snapped, "how the Hell could we be with a pervert like you nearby?" It was the first time I had ever heard any real annoyance in Romero's voice; he was usually so ambiguous and sardonic that it was hard to tell what he was really thinking.

"I'm not a pervert!" Kent retorted in outrage as he flailed his arms out at his side in typical dramatic Toreador fashion.

"Really, then why are you so obsessed with sex?" Romero queried, back in his derisive manner. "Is it because you guys aren't meant to do it?" he asked innocently. Weren't we? Did I miss that rule? Should have paid more attention to Jack's Dead Lessons or maybe it had been in LaCroix's ranting of the rules somewhere...

"No, I'm not obsessed," Kent snarled childishly, "you're obsessed!"

I grinned and looked at the confused Hispanic vampire curiously. She did not feel like Kindred and yet she was a bloodsucker like I, at least I thought so. "What do you mean Beast's flower?" I queried merrily. "Don't we all drown in the odour of the deceased?"

"No," she narrowed her eyes at Romero, "it's unclear, it's not...the moaners, you dwelled near them."

"Zombies!" I cried out helpfully as I clapped my hands. "Oh you're good, do me, do me!"

"Oh great another crazy bitch," Kent complained in his usual blunt manner.

The woman turned her sharp gaze on him. "Never mind, you wouldn't understand," she said dismissively before turning from us to glance over at the others. She started to walk towards them, her feet shuffling gently in the sand with each step.

Three men stood gawking at us with unease, one half-clothed, making me wonder if he was a merman in disguise, another with his hair rubbed in moss too many times and another with a strip of black stubble down his forehead like a confused skunk. The latter looked the most nervous whilst the green haired boy, hmm perhaps he too was of the sea and it was seaweed that tainted his locks, appeared intrigued. The young Hispanic stepped behind the muscular topless one and looked at us cautiously from behind him. He had been the outspoken one, the one who had irked Alex with his protesting. Alex could have easily torn his head from his shoulders but haste, worry and probably an oncoming shift of mind had made him take heed and take me elsewhere.

"Let's build sandcastles here," I suggested, feeling a little awkward at our potential reunion. "I ruined their party last time, I don't think they like me."

"You've met them?" Kent queried in surprise. "Trust you to know the caitiffs."

"Cat tiffs? Why would cats have a tiff?" I wondered as I looked over at the beach crowd. "Did they kick sand in the kitties' eyes?"

"No you idiot," Kent scorned, "caitiffs, the Clanless ones, outcasts from other Kindred, they're bad news."

"Isn't that a little racist?" I queried disapprovingly.

Kent answered me with another glower. "Look, why are we here? Weren't you looking for Beckett?"

"Well, that would be a bonus," I admitted, "maybe we'll find the buried treasure before he does! Sandcastles first though."

Kent muttered a curse and rubbed his neck awkwardly. "Er...can't it wait?" he mumbled as he continued to stare over at the sandy misfits.

"Someone's embarrassed," Romero teased.

"Well are you keen to build sandcastles?" Kent snapped back at him.

I looked to Romero hopefully, awaiting his answer. He grinned and swept his right hand through his dark hair, which had become wavy in the wind. "I would love to, I really would but without a bucket I'm just not much good, besides I would only slow you down," he answered calmly.

I heard Kent grit his teeth together and said, "don't worry, we'll go slow for you and without buckets we can be creative! No more conformist square houses, let the regime of the bucket end and the beginning of democracy for the shrimps begin!" I shouted happily.

"Oh great, let everyone hear you," Kent grumbled as he continued to shoot glances at our puzzled beach companions.

"Maybe they'll join in," I said hopefully, "yes, an olive branch!" I started to walk over to them but someone jerked me back sharply.

"Don't you frigging dare," Kent growled in my ear in a low voice.

I squirmed from his grasp and turned round to smile at him in delight. "Oh Kent I didn't realise you wanted it to be just us three!" I cried out gleefully. "Well don't worry, there's plenty of sand for all but I won't invite them if it makes you happy."

"It does, it very much does," he said stiffly.

I rolled up my blue sleeves and commanded, "let's get to work then!"

For half an hour we scooped and patted sand, wetting our hands in the incoming tide to help smooth the sand out. The Thin-Bloods observed us from a distance, staying close to their burning barrel and radio. I knew they wanted to join in but were too shy to ask and was tempted to call them over but Kent informed me that he would bury me in sand to keep me silent if he had to and I was in no mood to play Egyptian funeral. Kent moved quickly, keeping himself a blur, and managed to make three sandcastles in the time it took Romero to complete half. The grave guardian wasn't very good and every time he patted his sand he did it too hard and it fell apart, although he kept a straight face I suspected he was devastated inside.

I paused when the warm breeze grew stronger causing my hair to momentarily fly into my face. I brushed it away, tilting my head up and into the breeze to help blow it out of my eyes. It was then that I saw a beautiful white beast high up on the cliffs watching us. "DOGGIE!" I yelled out happily, pointing out at it.

Kent paused to follow my gaze and I glanced over to see his mouth in a grimace. "That's not a dog," he said coolly, "it's a wolf and it's watching us."

"What's a wolf doing out here?" Romero wondered aloud.

"Can we catch it? Can we? Please? Oh I've always wanted a pet!" I stood up excitedly and looked at the creature eagerly, I was certain it would look extra cute with a bow on its head. The rotting, wooden steps to the pier were just ahead, built right beside the edge of the steep, dark cliffs. If I ran up to them, perhaps I could get closer, maybe enough to lure it to me with false promises of biscuits. I started to run and heard Romero and Kent give chase.

"What are you doing?" Kent cried out in exasperation. "You can't reach it; the cliffs are too far away! You are just going to scare it off!"

"I'm going to call it White Fang," I said eagerly as I started to run up the steps, wincing as they creaked.

"How original," Kent sneered sardonically.

It looked like a big wolf, with a bushy tail, large paws, thick fur tufts around its head and tinge of blue-grey to its fur along its back and the top of its neck, skull and ears. It watched me with cautious, intelligent eyes and tensed up. I gave a cry of despair when it turned and bolted into the darkness. "Come back wolfie!" I called out in vain. "I'll give you rabbit! Or Kent, you can eat him if you want, I'll hold him down!"

"You will not," Kent snapped as he elbowed me sharply. "I told you, you would scare it off!"

"It didn't look scared," Romero commented as he arrived behind us.

"No," Kent said softly as he looked to the cliffs where the wolf had stood, "it didn't. Definitely not an ordinary wolf."

"What kind then?" I demanded as I looked to him for an explanation. "A werewolf?" I marvelled. "A shapeshifter? What Kent? What?"

He shrugged. "I don't know," he murmured, "not a werewolf, they're bigger and nastier, maybe...well maybe a Gangrel, though who or why they would be watching us I don't know."

"Maybe they were after the treasure," I mused, "their big paws could have dug it up fast, but they wanted to find it alone. Hmm, poor wolfie must be disappointed." I paused and turned sharply to the steps on the right. There was a stale whiff of blood in the air, faint and yet enough to poison the salty smell of the sea. I started to walk up the steps, slower now, following the scent. A rancid grave. Death was up ahead. There were so many voices I wondered how I had missed them, hearts beating, people laughing, games binging, rides humming and screams. Once fear, now delight.

"Malk where are you going?" Kent groaned. "I'm really not interested in a fair."

I wandered into a throng of people playing with hoops, water guns and darts and watched with interest as a clown was murdered with internal drowning and no one shrieked for the police. Hmm perhaps clown killing was legal in Santa Monica then, about time. I suspected the fair had only just opened; it was only coming up to seven o'clock after all, which explained the lack of activity on the beach. In a couple of hours the romantic strolls and beach parties would begin. Well maybe not parties, hmm it wasn't a weekend and summer had ended, in a month's time the fair would be closed for winter.

To the left was the familiar arcade hut, I flinched slightly as a flashback of making out with Phil in the corner filled me. Samantha and Sarah had come here with a group of students; they wasted their weekends here before heading to the pubs and clubs to get drunk, or to house parties. Phil's roommate had thrown house parties a lot, Phil had never seemed happy when Sarah, when I had come though, murmured about studies, glanced at other scantily dressed guests, frowned when I had tried to occupy his attention and then succumbed to pressure, had a few beers and usually welcomed me to his bed. Me, Sarah? Which was which? Who was who?

Death, focus on that, that was real, that smell, sweet, forgotten blood. It made me salivate, made the crowds of teens and students all the more tempting and torturous. I stumbled through the people, edging to the open fence gates that led to the rides. There were more huts ahead on the left with dodgems and twirling seats within them. The sea roared down at the right, a rippling torrent of black and silver, catching and holding the light of the stars and the moon. Further ahead and to the left the big wheel glittered and spun, and onwards even more rides, most with the big wheel, on the safety of rocky land rather than unreliable wood.

I paused at the gate though, stood beneath the lamp hanging out from the right and shuddered, it had been here. Blood had painted these boards; a shredded puppet had hung down, a gruesome find.

"Ariadne what are you doing?" Kent hissed in my ear. "Come on, I'm getting hungry and I would rather feed in private."

I reached out to the lamppost and looked up at Kent. "Don't you smell it?"

"Smell what?" he muttered. "Sweat, fear, popcorn? Hell, this is you; maybe I'm supposed to be smelling the tears of baby unicorns."

I smiled at that thought and shook my head. "No, death."

"Death is everywhere," Romero murmured dryly, "you get used to it."

"The violent vengeance in the night," I commented softly, "mother shan't be too pleased. None too pleased."

"Let's get out of here nutcase," Kent grumbled as he glanced about him. When he noticed a group of thin, tanned students, he stopped protesting. They wore short, revealing crop tops, tight, denim shorts and sandals and all of them had long legs and thin, stomachs. They were starved poor things, probably kept in the gingerbread house for too long. "Or maybe we could stay," the poet said, "have some fun."

It was tempting but Romero, not a lover of crowds, made the decision for us. "No, we're getting out of here," he said firmly, "before you two decide this is an open bar. Come on." He grabbed me by one hand and led the way back down the pier through the crowds.

The heartbeats sounded louder now, so much blood was being pumped round it almost seemed a waste, there was plenty to spare here surely. Yes, lots of little red drops to be spilled, make it rain only a little for each one, no one will notice.

Romero's grip grew tighter when my pace slackened and he pulled me harder. "Don't even think about it," he remarked warningly as he glanced back at me, "I know that look, that's your cat to a fishbowl look, just forget it."

"But the fish are so plentiful," I pouted, "one stray won't be missed."

"Keep walking Ariadne," Kent commented firmly as he appeared at the other side of me, "let's not make a scene the Masquerade might notice."

"When will I get to go to this Masquerade?" I wondered. "It sounds like fun."

"It's not," Kent retorted flatly as we started to descend back to the beach. "It's a party for assholes too afraid to openly show their identities and their views because they know deep down that they are wrong."

"You weren't invited were you?"

Kent refused to answer me and instead started storming across the sand, pausing to glance hesitantly at the tunnel. "I'm going to assume there's no treasure here," he said as he turned back at me with a look of annoyance.

I looked about the beach curiously and let out a wail when I saw that my moat was overflowing and my sandcastle was close to flooding. "Damn you Poseidon!" All my hard work for the shrimp people was soon going to be in ruination.

"Well you shouldn't have built so close to the sea," Kent grumbled as he followed my gaze. "Although I didn't think the tide was coming in as fast as that." He sighed, and I was certain it was in mourning for his own sandcastle.

I stepped towards mine and looked down at it sorrowfully. "The sea is a cruel tyrant," I murmured, "it casts out viciously with clammy hands."

"I really need a smoke," Romero commented, uninterested in my plight. I heard him shuffle about his pockets before he cursed. "Where the Hell is my lighter?"

"So that's where she got it from," Kent muttered. "I got rid of it after I woke up to find the curtains on fire, and the alarm unplugged."

I smiled as Kent looked at me disapprovingly and Romero gave me a mildly curious glance. "Why?" he asked as he frowned.

"Do you have to ask? Do you?" Kent snapped at him. "Haven't you learnt that asking her why she does anything is only going to result in some fantastical lengthy nonsense about flying toasters and leprechauns?!"

Romero shrugged. "It's interesting."

Whilst Kent spluttered out some of his rage and disbelief I confessed to Romero the reason behind my pyromania. "I didn't like the colour of the curtains," I informed him sincerely, "and thought they would look better with all the beauty of fire, and I unplugged the alarm so the noise wouldn't wake you, I know you need your beauty sleep."

"You see," Kent snarled sarcastically, "she almost barbecued me because she didn't like the colour of the curtains, and this is the woman you fuck, hope you're happy about that."

"You really do go on about that," Romero murmured dryly, "I think you need a girlfriend. Anyway, I need a light, so excuse me." The tall grave guard started walking towards the Thin-Bloods and their flaming barrel casually with an unlit cigarette held out in his left hand.

"Oh great, I stop you from talking with them," Kent complained as he frowned at me, "and now the Ghoul goes and does it."

"He'll break the ice and then we can ask of the relic hunter and the secrets of Davy Jones' locker, snared beneath sand." I started to skip after Romero and heard Kent follow grudgingly.

Romero didn't bother with a greeting, he simply lit his cigarette off their barrel and started smoking it, he could be a rude Ghoul sometimes. For their part the weak beach buddies took a few cautious steps away from him, except for the topless merman in disguise.

"Greetings outcasts!" I called to them cheerfully.

The muscular surfer looked at me wearily. "Here to force us out?" he asked defensively. "Look, we're not trying to cause trouble; we barely even know what we are."

"You are the man between D and F, the one whose blood runs thinly from the flower."

"Flower?" His blue eyes widened as he looked at me. "How did you know that?"

"Oh she knows many things," Kent said loudly as he clamped a hand down on my right shoulder and pulled me back, "some true, and some utter nonsense."

"I'm like a magic eight ball," I boasted proudly, "give me a shake fanged surfer and ask your question!"

He looked at me with unease and then suspicion. "You look familiar," he murmured.

"Ssh...sh...she," the one with only one strip of lone hair stammered, "that...thh...that night."

"Is there a fairy caught in your throat?" I asked curiously as I looked his way. He had a strip of hair on his lips and below his tongue; this man liked his hair thin, much like his blood then.

"Nnn...no," he answered me with a wary look. "Yy...you, that redhead...hh...he bb...bit you."

"That's it," the half-clothed one said in his strong Australian accent, "you're the girl from that night. He came to the beach with you, could've have caused a lot of trouble. You were Kine then though, so he turned you then?"

"He, another and then a third," I answered chirpily.

"What?"

"She's mad, just ignore her," Kent grumbled.

"You...you seek the lone wolf," the woman with the black bob babbled as she took a step towards me, "but he has been...you walk a strange path...Fortune is not your destiny. All of us are unfortunate. There is...a beast in the night...you will tread too far...They're watching you, some smile..."

"What are you babbling about?" Kent demanded.

Her brown eyes flickered over to him. "You...the number man...you have plans...there will be death...and battles... You have an odd division in yourself, your loyalty, your joy...memories are your shackles..."

"Enough of the gibberish," Kent growled out before jerking a finger in my direction, "I get plenty from her."

The woman shook her head, trying to look calm once more though the fear was evident in her eyes. "I'm sorry. Sometimes I see...well it doesn't matter, I don't know what I'm saying."

"You mentioned a wolf," Romero spoke up flatly, though his gaze was on the cliffs rather than the woman.

"The lone wolf," the woman murmured.

"Exactly," Romero said calmly.

"Ah giant Fido on the cliffs!" I exclaimed with a clap of my hands, which had the stutterer jumping back in fright. "Yes, speak of the wolf! Do you know why it was here? Do you know what it was looking for? Was it treasure? Is there treasure here?"

The surfer, the green haired man and the stutterer all looked to the woman curiously; she still looked scared and uneasy. "There is no treasure here," she said with some certainty, "and no wolf." She touched her head with one hand and groaned. "A blood cursed gallery...the wolf hunts history...You seek truths but you will find history too..."

"Great, great," Kent said dismissively. He turned to me and commented, "see there's no treasure here and if nuts here is to be believed then he will be at that gallery you said Therese mentioned to you. So we'll go there tomorrow night and look for him, alright?"

"Look for who?" I queried as I smiled back at Kent. "Is it a wolf with slippers or a vampire with paws?"

"My guess, it's Beckett, he's a Gangrel so it would make sense, not that you know what sense is. Though why he was watching us I don't know, you said LaCroix wants him to help with what again?"

"A Nodding relic," I said, proud to have remembered that. "A lure for the history hungry vampire. The tower man needs answers, wants power like everyone else. It will end in battle, these things always do but the commoners pay the price."

"That's great, now's not the time for your foresight shit, let's just feed and go to bed."

I nodded; the thirst was beginning to burn, excited by the presence of the crowds at the fair.

"Are you going to tell anyone about us?" E asked nervously.

Kent looked at him with a measure of disgust. "No, you're of no interest to us."

"And what about Lily?" E looked at me with a serious gaze. "You were talking about her; do you know where she is?"

Ah the conquered wallflower, victim to the mad Ghoul, probably a dry husk now, had to save myself though. Hmm, couldn't go back to mister crazy but then it would be cruel to send the weak unknowing Thin-Blood. "I know of the roses and bluebells," I said merrily, "but not the lilies." I thought then of Phil too, another victim of the Ghoul's, an ally too but only when he had uses, what state was he in? Would he live? Would Vandal finish his work? Why was I bothered? Well not I, just one of us, maybe a couple, mainly Sarah.

E frowned and I knew he did not believe me; perhaps my nose had grown in betrayal. I reached up to with both hands but it felt the same. "We must drink of the Kine," I said softly, "stay safe nervous outcasts." I turned from them and led the way back to the tunnel.

* * *

><p><em>The sandcastles finally happened, yay! So I suppose the chapter was mostly dialogue but it's all plot development, I promise. The wolf on the cliffs comes from the game, something I never even noticed until my latest playthrough, thought it was interesting that Beckett was observing you right from the start effectively. I quite enjoy writing the dialogue between Romero and Kent, they have a funny likehate relationship. Oh and as one of my beloved reviewers mentioned, the reasoning for Kent suddenly being loyal to Ariadne seems curious, well I promise all will be revealed in time. Rosa's dialogue is relevant and will come to light later. I quite liked the Thin-Bloods in the game, felt sorry for them but not enough to not send Copper to his doom and later kill Julius :-D._

_Thanks for the reviews, favs and alerts, it is all very much appreciated!  
><em>


	20. Chapter 20

Gallery Noir, the wooden sign flapping in the wind that marked it didn't seem too impressive. Yet there was a decent sized crowd waiting to be granted entry. Tonight was the first night of Therese's exhibitions and already she was inside welcoming the press. I approached cautiously between Kent and Romero; we were all armed now after Kent had insisted. I had argued that my wonderful penchant for making people see things was enough but he had retorted that nothing was more certain than a blade, arrow or bullet. He had wanted me to take a dagger from the master of pawns' shop but after I had informed him that only a sword of Japan was good for tentacle monsters, ninjas and youma did he had finally consent to buying me one. I had it concealed, tucked under my jacket and skirt to nurse against me awkwardly.

"So if this guy's not here, what's the plan?" Romero queried in a bored tone.

"Ariadne goes back to Sebastian and says that Beckett moved on from Santa Monica," Kent answered calmly.

"I smell paint, blood and history in the air, and it's so fresh, like warm bagels, how could the nose of an archaeologist resist?" I remarked confidently.

We joined the queue but not content to wait, Kent used his presence to awe the people out of our way so that we were soon at the front. I noted a couple of male police officers waiting nearby, and wondered if there were often fights at art galleries.

"You know Hernaz," one said in a deep, gruff voice, "did you hear on the news, that slasher's been moving about. Downtown and Hollywood have all had corpses similar to the one we dealt with."

"I heard man; you know it's not the worst thing I've seen."

"Yeah you told me," the first cop dismissed as Kent pushed me through the double doors, "werewolves and all that nonsense, woo!"

"You're a jerk."

Inside I immediately detected two of our kind, Therese smiling for reporters and another, not far from her and close to the main exhibition, a ring of four paintings.

"You know I'd never even heard of Lilith until now," a Kine woman commented loudly, "it's very interesting art."

"The dark father," I mused as I eyed the paintings, "and the honey tongued guide. A curse, a punishment, the forefathers followed, murder and politics, a blood won crown."

"Could you maybe mutter to your voices internally?" Kent grumbled.

"But then they might not hear me," I pouted as I turned my attention to the dark haired man with the trench coat and the marvellous glasses. "They would go well with my collection; they would match Strauss' nicely."

"What collection? Your hat collection? Your shoe collection? Your stone collection?" Kent queried in exasperation. "Or the funny faced popcorn one? Maybe the broken glass one or the disturbing broken paintings of dogs acting like humans."

"How did you know about that one?" I asked as I looked at Kent curiously. I had thought that one nicely hidden behind the bar at the Asp Hole.

"Ash, V.V, Ginger and Isaac," Kent retorted, "Ash thinks it shows you're a pain the ass, V.V thinks you're obsessive and Isaac thinks it's cute, go figure."

I shrugged and turned, hurrying to the red eyed man who was looking straight back at me. His hair was long, black and thick, reaching his shoulders, a thick, dark brown, leather strap went across his chest and under his waist, holding up a backpack, a yellow shirt poked out from under the brown trench coat and his glasses were black, rectangular frames that did little to hide his red slits from view. "Woof!" I greeted as I reached him.

He cocked his right eyebrow up and said in a calm, almost patronising way, "you must be the one looking for me. Miss Voerman did mention you were...a tad different."

"The dark daughter of Janus would know," I answered with an agreeable nod, "our differences our few and many. Two halves of the mirror, I have many shards, though I've only counted four."

"Indeed. Well, what is it you are looking for me for?"

I leaned up to him, peering at his yellow ringed pupils with interest. "Did you come to play spying games on the sand?"

"Ah yes, well it's not that I've been following you per se, I do have my own reasons for being here of course but when I heard news of you, well I had to investigate. One can't be too careful these days," he answered in a sardonic tone, making me wonder how sincere he was being. "So sorry if I unnerved you."

"It's alright, I'm just sad there's no pet wolf to be had," I lamented.

"Beckett." Kent and Romero had joined us.

"Ah, good to see my reputation still precedes me," Beckett retorted with a degree of happiness and smugness to his voice. "And you're a Toreador, hmm well if the art doesn't prove too distracting; maybe you can explain why your companion wants me."

"Tis not I," I answered brightly, "but the crowned master in the tower, he wishes your services for a nodding relic."

"Noddist relic," Kent corrected, "and if you don't get it, she means Sebastian LaCroix, the pretender in Downtown."

Beckett nodded. "I gathered that," he said calmly.

Kent turned from him to flicker a glance at the paintings. "They're quite expressive," he mused, "good colours too; I wonder who the artist is."

"And there he goes," Romero commented, "typical Toreador."

"So great treasure hunter, will you accompany me back to the Prince so that I might be successive?" I asked hopefully.

"Hmm, well now I am intrigued if it's a Noddist relic but I still have studying here to do."

"What studying? Marvels of the undead art, buried treasure, or the unloved ones on the beach."

"Yes, the Thin-Bloods...They're a fascination of mine, I had heard a large concentration of them lived in this city- they're one of the reasons I'm in Los Angeles," he answered, his eyes filling with a spark of passion.

"They're boring though," I murmured, "a merman in disguise, maybe two, a doomsday girl, a stutterer and an imprisoned flower, once you know one you know them all. Come to Downtown, it's much more exciting, there are plagues, flesh eaters, sexual diseases, ratty anarchs who don't thank you for favours and more."

"How delightful," came Beckett's sarcastic remark.

I looked to Kent for help but he was busy inspecting a painting of a flaming blue bush with a man kneeling before it. I wondered if it was the first forest fire or perhaps the earliest known spontaneous combustion amongst trees. "Good use of blue and white," Kent commented appreciatively, "they blend well together, and the shadows, just excellent."

"Now who's talking to themselves," I grumbled, "or are the voices named? Perhaps two mad Toreadors then."

"No, he's just a Toreador," Romero answered, "it's their way crazy cat."

I looked back to Beckett and decided to switch tactics. "The relic looked very old," I informed him, "before the Egyptians, and it had strange markings on it, hard to decipher, and carvings."

"Of what?" The fish had been caught by the lie.

"Of a fanged being with a crown," I retorted, "and around him bleeding priests." One of my voices murmured to me, 'Elkabo, elkabo, pixie queen where all is green.' I turned and looked for the pixie queen; there were tiny shimmers near the paintings, drawn to the magic. "Paintings of acrylics and blood, a new form of art preservation," I murmured. "The pixies smell the magic but the blood recoils them, poor confused creatures."

"Ah you sense that too, yes I had noticed the minute carvings on the frames that indicate magic," Beckett said, still in a voice riddled with cynicism. "Miss Voerman's handiwork I would presume, she must be anticipating an attack on art."

"Hippies protesting the abuse of paint?" I pondered. "Or the religious taking offence? Maybe urchins angry at the door fees? Did we pay fees? Life and death, so expensive. We spite ourselves sometimes."

"Well I wouldn't presume to know the would be attackers or their motives," Beckett dismissed my ponderings. "Now, you have me interested in this relic of the Prince's, so if it means you will leave me in peace to study the paintings, then I will come with you to Downtown."

"Hurray!" I jumped up twice in delight. "When lone wolf? When? Must make haste, his highness gets impatient with me, he's doesn't understand the night's distractions, the yearning of the mad, the draw of the past."

Beckett just managed to curb a sigh. "Tomorrow night?" he offered. "Is that soon enough for you child of Malkav?"

"Soon enough to bake blood cakes of apology for the Napoleonic master, yes a return to Downtown tomorrow. Where shall we reacquaintance ourselves?"

"Is that even a word?" Romero wondered quietly.

"I will meet you outside The Diner," Beckett suggested, "at oh, shall we say, half eight?"

I nodded happily. Now Sebastian would be pleased with me, perhaps enough to divulge secrets, which I would hide from the number man but share with my sweet Baron. "Yes, and just one more thing?"

"Only one?" Beckett drawled.

"Are your glasses mere pretence? Might I test them?"

"No."

"Please, my sight grows blurry."

"I would say that's impossible for Kindred to have such weaknesses but then you are a Child of Malkav, blurry vision could easily be normal for you, in which case my glasses will not help you."

"What if I am considering a change? Maybe glasses will suit me?" I continued to plead.

"No, now then, until tomorrow evening...what was your name? I suppose it would be courteous to learn it."

"I am the lost princess, and the art student, and others, the many, the legion, the voices of one and several-"

"Just call her Ariadne," Romero interrupted my monologue, "everyone else does. Although sometimes, at least in Santa Monica, it's Sarah."

"I see. Well until tomorrow Ariadne-Sarah," Beckett said politely.

I shuddered at the thought of our names intertwined, we were not one, we could not be, she had no concept of Kindred, no use for Dementation, soppy, emotional, heartsick Sarah, still pining for Phil and dead Chase, oh but then, I pined for Isaac, perhaps we were not so different. Oh but acknowledgement, that was the curse, the trick, let her in too much and she would have control again.

"Let's get the art freak and go then," Romero suggested.

I followed his stare to Kent who was all but drooling at a painting of a naked man and woman, arm in arm in a pool of blood with droplets raining upon them. It made me thirsty. I headed over to him as he turned to engage excitedly with a human art lover, a student I guessed, one young with big, blue eyes and blonde hair streaked with pinks and lilacs.

"It is painful, sad when you compare it to the others," Kent told her with a grand gesture to all the paintings, "yet happy by itself, an odd contrast, one so deep though and full of much meaning."

The woman nodded agreeably though her eyes were not on the art but on Kent's smooth cheeks, chiselled jaw and elegant, handsome features.

"Casanova we must leave this dark gallery," I called in his left ear, "the deal is struck with the ruin hunter, he will join us tomorrow and together to Downtown we shall journey."

Kent nodded even as he pushed me away with one hand. "You see the drops," he said turning to point at the red rain on the painting, "they could easily be petals, giving a vision of beauty and yet the pool they wade through is crimson, an omen."

"Yes," the woman agreed.

I looked at her and grinned. When she collapsed into a fit of loud laughter Kent almost strangled me. "Must you do that?" he hissed angrily as the crowds turned to ogle the woman in surprise and scorn.

"Got your attention didn't it?" I replied innocently. "Time to flee the dark daughter's domain, our deed is done, mission complete."

"Oh and what, I can't enjoy the art and the company?" he snapped. "You're quite selfish Malk, I build ridiculous sandcastles with you but you won't allow me this?"

"Oh Kent, so moody over scribbles," I scorned. "Very well, enjoy your art, but do not be a prisoner of it Dorian, break free before sunrise." I turned from him and sprang for Romero, grabbing both his shoulders. "Just us tonight, a happy twosome!"

Romero eased me off and patted me gently on the head. "Let's go then."

I linked hands with him and we headed from the art domain and back to the welcome brown and grey streets of Santa Monica. We wandered up the pavements without direction until I found myself under the red glow of the Blood Clinic. I looked at its glass doors warily, within there a brutal mixture of torture and healing, the shame concealed underground, the secrets above. In there Lily and Phil suffered and only myselves, the grave guard, the poet and the mad slave knew.

"Whatever you're thinking," Romero said quietly in my ear, "it's not a good idea. I don't mind using Jamie Sue if it comes to it, wouldn't want her getting rusty but you; you're more unstable in this place than home, probably best not risking another incident."

"Should have freed the wallflower," I bemoaned, "but to risk torture for a stranger." I paused and looked at Romero keenly. "Would you do that?"

He looked uneasy for a moment, even as he held my gaze with his olive eyes. Debt, a friend in need, a love triangle like a tragic movie scene. "Once and it didn't work out so well for me," he confessed, sounding unconcerned. Screams in the night, so cold, so warm, down in the never ending dark, oh but I saw something horrid and deformed. Once you get a gun, get a gun, aim well, it'll be alright, once you get one, bastards. Oh the twists and turns of the flesh, who knew it could bend so easily?

"Scars even a Toreador's blood can't heal," I murmured, thinking of the pink trails running down Romero's chest coupled with the ones running through his brain. Such secrets the marksman had, but then didn't everyone in this dark world?

"Yeah, let's not talk about that," he dismissed with an awkward grin. "Let's just get away from here, you can't save everyone."

"But maybe we should try, Sarah wants very much to see Phil spared the Ghoul's final blow of death. She wants Phil, or is it revenge on Phil? Couldn't have him fully in life, he was a user, but then isn't everyone?" I sniggered. "Maybe he would make a fun Ghoul," I looked at Romero again, "is it fun being a Ghoul?"

"It has its moments though it's different for everyone, I would assume the obsession is the same, though to different degrees."

"Obsession?" I queried curiously.

He nodded. "Oh yes, the bond between Ghoul and vampire, impossible to escape, the blood drinking only makes it stronger but who can resist that taste?"

"So you're obsessed with the Baron then?" I guessed. "Should we duel for him?"

He frowned and shook his head quickly. "It's not like that," he scorned, "I mean...well...Baron's happy, I get my blood and I'm happy."

"But when you disobey him, how can you disobey him? This is most vexing, I didn't realise the bond I was playing with."

"No you didn't but it's alright, when you and I met I had no orders against...well against that so it was alright and then after..." He rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably with his left hand. "Well I'd no orders to not let you in my hut, just...nothing else, until you said something to him, then he said he didn't care, so long as he didn't have to know it."

"Ah I see, sneaky crypt keeper, wandering through the loopholes, a fun journey, I know. Obeying without obedience, a game I play with the Prince, nod and smile and then play bad games anyway."

"Er...well not quite, I'm loyal to Isaac, and not just because I'm his Ghoul, he's a good guy for one of your lot and I owe him. I mean if I'd known you and him, well I wouldn't have done it, but I did and it's history now. I mean I suppose I should've just...let it be a once off but...well I was in that shack for a really long time, no breaks, and you...well you're a striking piece of ass aren't you, and I get to escape Hollywood for a while thanks to you and...I like you crazy cat."

I smiled at him and grabbed him in a hug. "I like you too zombie slayer, you're fun." I flickered my gaze back to the clinic of wounded and wondered if saving the flower damsel might strike a blow against the mad wonder. Would it be worth it? Well the task of the archaeologist was all but done, why not another quest? I no longer had feelings of being Kine, so surely I wouldn't be bested by the cowardly Ghoul again. "I will make him mad," I mused as I released Romero and hurried to the Blood Clinic. "Make them all laugh."

I heard Romero groan but he followed as I knew he would. This time through the main doors, into a crowded reception and up to the grumpy receptionist. "Wait your turn," she snapped at me.

"The turning is now," I murmured as I grinned at her, "round and round, been waiting a while for the ride to get moving but it's turning now."

Her eyes went wide; she gave a moan and doubled over with a wretch. I giggled and hurried forward. I paused when I heard a voice call from above, "Dr. Malcolm to surgery please."

"God?" I wondered curiously as I searched for the source.

"Dr. Malcolm to surgery," it repeated.

"It's not God," Romero scoffed, "just a speaker. Now, can you please hurry up and do whatever stupid thing it is you're going to do?" he queried dryly.

I grinned and hurried on, pausing at each door I neared to peer in. Within one was an old man groaning on a bed with a dark skinned, dreadlocked doctor looking at him. He turned at my intrusion and frowned at me. "The doctor at play," I murmured.

"Excuse me?" he snapped at me.

I grinned back. "He shall turn pages no more." I turned and headed back out, no time for games and bribes though it was tempting.

In the next room I spied a groaning, youthful redhead. Her guts were out when they should be in, her rectangular glasses cracked, her skin paler than usual and her yellow top almost scarlet. "Help me," she pleaded, "help me."

I looked at her curiously, so young, a student probably like I once was, ah the shears of the Fates could be cruel sometimes. I considered aid briefly, there along the webs of destiny, so many different strands, on one a slave, a chore, a burden, on another...well that was yet unclear.

"Unless you're going to feed on her, can we get going?" Romero queried impatiently. He didn't like being back here again, he wasn't nervous, the gunman was never nervous, but he knew the dangers lurking below and he knew the risks of cops that gunshots and biting could bring.

"Maybe I want a Ghoul," I murmured.

"Hmm, I'm thinking if I let you make a Ghoul somehow I will get blamed for it and I don't fancy listening to that whiny poet yap at me or have the Baron mad at me again, all because you did something stupid."

I looked at him innocently. "Why would the crypt keeper take the blame?"

He folded his arms and gave me the scorning look a child might receive upon shattering dolls' heads. "The crypt keeper wouldn't willing take the blame; the blame would be forced upon him because he's meant to be the responsible one."

I clapped my hands and laughed at his sardonic third-person referral. Was it third? Were there three within him? "Do you have the many voices?"

He shook his head. "No, I'm just me, now come on, no Ghoul making."

I turned back to the delirious, whimpering redhead and reached out a hand to brush against her brow. "Let another do this dark deed," I mused, "I have not the permission." I turned from her and led the way back out in the corridors of grey walls and tiles. We wandered into several offices before finally spying the treacherous lover, slowly recovering in a ward, abandoned to his bed for the more seriously injured.

"What of this one?" I murmured as I stepped up to the bed and gazed down at sweaty Phil. "Can he be a servant in the night? Or," my grin widened, "a child of madness?"

"Yeah I think you guys need permission to make vampires," Romero said, with a little more anger in his voice, "and even if you don't, that's definitely a bad, bad idea. He looks like he's going to be alright, you can stop worrying."

I looked back to the grave guardian and was certain there was just an extra sparkle of green in his olive eyes, though he tried to appear nonchalant. "Doth the previous lover bother you?" I wondered aloud.

Romero's lips twitched as he resisted the urge to frown. "No," he answered briskly.

I looked back to Phil and Sarah pushed through with her wretched memories. He had toyed with her, never called her but waited for her calls instead. Never a boyfriend, wouldn't come out for dates, just to the clubs with the groups, sometimes she would go back with him but other times he would refuse her because he had studies. Then his roommate had talked loudly of Phil's girls, and that had made Sarah wonder... His face was still swollen and bruised but he did look better, provided the blood thief did not finish his work, Phil would live. Would he forget? Devoted Sarah never could, told herself it was okay Phil being with others because she wanted another too, she wanted Chase.

I turned away at last, too many memories trying to suffocate me; I wanted no more of the old. "Let's go rescue the wallflower," I said as I met Romero's gaze once more. I smiled at him. "Just you and the Baron, two for the many voices, two is enough, he makes the voices quieter, and you, you don't get angry with them."

"You are what you are, me getting angry isn't going to change that," he retorted calmly, "maybe you can help your madness but I doubt it, and I'm fine with it."

I wanted to hug him again but I could feel a prickle of longing in my throat, a burning that would soon bloom into a powerful need. With the stench of blood around me, tempting me, I knew I had to get out of here soon. "On to the imprisoned hippy then," I announced chirpily before casting one final glance at Phil. Say farewell Sarah, you are done with him.

We headed through two glass doors at the back of the corridors, which I had to help prise open, with the aid of the goblins naturally, who were excellent at opening locks. Then down, down the steps Chase had once led us astray, back to the corridors of treachery.

I ducked and yanked Romero down with me. Had to be sneaky, would obfuscate but then Romero would be left visible. He was there, up ahead behind his protective mesh, but there was a door just before it, maybe if I was quiet enough. I reached it with soft steps and raised a hand up to the handle. Locked of course, now how to open this quietly? Not possible. I stood upright and ran to the mesh prison. Laugh little Ghoul, laugh and forget. I grasped the frame, leaned close and laughed, laughed loudly and absurdly before he knew what was going on. His face crinkled up before he could help himself and then his own wild laughter began. I moved back to the door and broke the lock free with much noise and effort.

"Shouldn't you have knocked him out or killed him?" Romero queried.

"A blow to the daughter of Janus," I murmured, "but the wrong half would take the insult and then more wrath upon poor me."

"Uh huh."

I led the way on through the many corridors, searching for the entrance to the forbidden chamber. Down into the freezers where a box of numbers sat where no box should. "Tis a reference of moon landings and sexual games," I mused, "well the latter anyway." I keyed in the numbers that the voices whispered and the door opened.

There she was, thinner, paler and weaker than before. Slumped forward and murmuring to herself as my kind were wont to. "Little flower," I called out softly as I crept to the chair. "Little hippy of the thin red rivers."

"Er...when did she last feed?" Romero wondered aloud.

Ah good question. "Perhaps you should wait outside," I suggested.

"Perhaps I should." He stepped back out of the room and I unfastened the locks that bound the cuffs. At first nothing, then a snarl of savagery and up the redhead sprang.

"Blood," she growled, "I need it, it burns, oh it burns, I'm so hungry, the fire, it hurts, it hurts!" she shrieked.

I glanced about the room, the blood bags must be stored somewhere near. Only so many would fit in the Ghoul's box. I sniffed the air, the odour was thick, Lily's, and other Kine's, many different types, oh how delicious. "This way, this way," I mused. I headed out a door at the front of the room, round a corner to the left and then into a small room of cupboards. Lily did not wait; she crashed into one cupboard loudly and tore it from its hinges. Blood spattered the room immediately, painting the dull floors as she ripped the bags of blood apart.

I preferred the fresh, hot taste but now my thirst had grown and I cared not for pickiness. So I went to another cupboard, with a little more grace and started feeding. It was cold, almost slimy and not as welcome as a new bite. Still, it helped soothe the burn and cull the need. I drank down just one bag, determined to have a fresh supper. Then I waited as Lily coated herself in sheens of red.

At last she stopped and looked around in shock before her gaze fell on me. "What came over me?" she wondered fearfully.

"The beautiful beast of hunger," I answered merrily. "But explanations come later; we must leave before the mad captor returns."

She narrowed her grey-green eyes at me with suspicion. "You look familiar," she murmured, "it's hard though, I'm so tired and thirsty, it's been hard to focus here."

I nodded. "Let's go," I urged.

I led the way back to an impatient Romero who regarded Lily warily. She let out a sharp gasp as the smell of his blood reached her but when he pulled out his faithful shotgun and pointed it her way she let out a shriek instead and staggered back.

"Quiet now," I urged, "the zombie slayer will only shoot if you bite. Must leave silently and hastily, come now."

We hurried on and escaped without detection, back to Santa Monica's ever familiar, dark streets. Lily halted then and snapped at me, "wait, you were with me! I remember now, trapped just like me but he let you go! Why did he let you go? Why did you leave me?"

"Another of my selves was in control," I explained apologetically, "but I returned; yes, now you're free."

She frowned. "I was there was so long strapped- trapped...thought I'd never escape. You escaped though and you left me, but I suppose you didn't have to return." She shuddered. "I need to go, it's not safe here."

"Run to the beach then," I suggested, "join the rest of the outcast clan with the prophesier and the one between D and F."

"E?" she queried dumbly. "Wait E! How do you know E?"

"He witnessed the beginning of my birth," I said dramatically, "and then the grand building of the sandcastles."

"Wwwhat?" She glanced nervously from me to Romero who was keeping a careful eye on her.

"On the beach with the others, an odd little group of unloved fangers."

Her gaze softened and she said quietly, "I tried to tell E about his condition, but he was so furious at me for what I'd made him into..." She trailed off.

"Yes, yes," I dismissed, "no time for tales, time for supper. Remember the fiery ball in the sky, don't get a tan Lily."

She shook her head at me. "Well thanks I- I should go, maybe I'll see E." She turned from me and broke into a run.

"Hope no one notices the bloodstains," Romero commented sardonically.

I shrugged. "The deed is done, conscience eased, the rest is fate."

"Right."

"Now, time to find a bedtime snack," I commented mischievously. I led the way back into the night, spying on the crowds, looking for the lone stranger to stalk.


	21. Chapter 21

I sensed eyes upon us as we walked through Santa Monica, some curious, some malicious, some the sparkling gazes of fey and others the lurking looks of sewer frogs. We walked briskly, a pace set by Kent who had returned late in the evening or was it early in the morning, smelling of bleach, guilt and blood. He had immediately dug an elbow into me and pushed me into an awkward angle so that he could once again spread himself out across the bed.

I had to hope for a return to Downtown tonight; to more pleasant quarters I had to hope. We were nearing the diner, though we were half an hour early. Kent had suggested an early evening hunt whilst Romero waited in the diner and acted human. Kent had suggested that maybe the darling grave Ghoul might like to just sit in the diner, Romero had merely rolled his eyes, murmured about needing coffee and then entered the small building.

Kent had started to lead the way on, towards a hobo blessed with madness and murmuring of the end of days. He sounded so miserable I could not resist sending a touch of Hysteria his way. Before Kent could scold something else caught my interest, a scent in the air. Familiar, hostile, nervous and recent. Curious, I headed after it, ignoring Kent's protests. There was fire in the air, gasoline and rust. I paused for a moment to look up at a murdered car stuck on a spike in warning to others.

"Malk what are you doing?" Kent demanded moodily. "I'm thirsty, let's find some Kine already."

I stepped close to the wire fence and eyed the 'No trespassing' sign curiously. "But why sign?" I queried curiously. "What do you guard other than dead cars? Do you hide the evidence of metal murder?" I sniffed the air. "I smell dog," I mused. When the sign refused to answer me I broke the flimsy lock and pushed open the gate.

"Why the Hell would you want to feed on a dog?" Kent demanded in disgust as he followed after me. "That's revolting."

I stepped up to the small shack that guarded the scrap yard and found the door locked. It was easily broken and I stepped into the building with ease and flicked on the light. There were dust bunny families, stale coffee, one lone doughnut in an old box, a desk littered with clipboards, wrappers, tin cans and letters, and a few holes indicating the hideaways of mice or dwarves. I headed to the door at the back of the building and unlocked it.

"Why are we breaking and entering a scrap yard?" Kent pondered. "Can you even hear me or are you in one of your fantasies? Maybe you're just ignoring me," he grumbled.

I ignored him and led the way out to a pen of whimpering dogs. "Aww cute puppies!" I cried out as I clapped my hands and leaned towards them. There was a Doberman, a German Shepherd and whining in a kennel a Rottweiler. "Poor little hounds are scared, the clawed beast has them all a quiver," I sympathised.

"What are you babbling about?" Kent demanded as he stepped up beside me and eyed the dogs with disgust.

I looked up at him hopefully and wondered aloud, "can one make a vampire dog?"

"No and don't even try it," came Kent's cruelly quick retort. "Look what are we doing here? There are no Kine-" He turned in a blur and I watched as he rushed forward, colliding with something. There was a cry and I watched as a form was thrown back by the Toreador to crash ungracefully and loudly against a barrel. The dogs whined and yelped in terror before fleeing to their kennels.

I stepped forward as Kent's assailant stood up with a scowl. _Mr. Popular in high school, captain of the football squad, everyone loved him, I hoped for just a sliver of that popularity at school. Smart too, followed the path of education that mum and dad wanted unlike the art student. Studied hard, more interested in wrestling and football, couldn't let the folks down though. He became a vet, married- _I shook my head and clawed at it hard with my nails. Wretched Sarah I would pull her out!

"Back off vampire. Stay the fuck back!" the man shouted. "I did nothing to you!" Questions for Kent, had to be for Kent. I clawed and clawed, felt my hair get wet, oh well, needed a shower, keep digging she can't stay buried in my skull forever!

"You just jumped me," Kent pointed out sardonically.

"Maybe a surprise hug," I suggested with a snicker.

I felt Kent's eyes on me and suddenly he was by my side wrenching my hands down. "What the fuck are you doing?" he snapped at me. "Shit you're bleeding, stupid Malk!" He sighed and clenched my hands tightly in his. He blocked my vision of our companion and hopefully his of me. No recognition, please no, no more memories, no more of this lunacy. I preferred my lunacy, Sarah's was too painful.

"Turned the pier bloody, then went after muddy," I rhymed.

"How do you know that?" he demanded.

Kent sighed and turned from me to face the man. "She's not right in the head, don't mind. Look who are you and why did you jump me?"

"Defensive," I murmured, "the beast is nervous, done many things, bad things, makes the masks fall down."

"Masks?" Kent echoed as he shot me a curious look. "Masquerade?" he wondered as he turned back to the stranger.

"You wouldn't care or understand," the man snapped sullenly. "You've just come here to pass judgement, haven't you?"

"No, as I think we've established, I don't even know who you are," Kent retorted dryly.

He stepped from me at last granting me another vision of the man. Tall and toned with the same bright, blue-grey eyes and soft, auburn hair. He was paler now, his hair a little wilder and his clothes were tattered and filthy, a formerly white vest top, ill-fitted jeans, scuffed shoes and black straps about his wrists and arms and black, fingerless, leather gloves. He looked at me and his eyes widened, a gasp escaped him and he shook his head. "No," he snapped a protest. "This is a trick! Some mind games!" He glowered at Kent and I.

"You don't smell like a Malkavian," Kent mused, "yet you certainly rant like one. No, you smell of..." He frowned. "Gangrel."

"Stinky wolf, sliced and diced with his claws, made them scream and bleed," I murmured. I sighed and the Sarah within me willed me to say, "a creature of the night then Rob, just like me, but why? When?"

He bristled at the mentioning of his name and Kent gave me an accusing stare. "Do you know everyone in Santa Monica?" he demanded. "Fuck how is coming here not a violation for you? Well shit it probably is, the amount of run-ins and risks," he grumbled, "Sebastian's probably waiting to stake you when we get back. Suppose his highness doesn't know you're from here, God forbid he would learn anything about his lowly subjects."

I flinched and smiled at the Toreador. "I don't know everyone," I protested, "just some around here; this bit is a small area."

"Then...you really are her?" the Gangrel demanded in disbelief. "My...my little sister is a vampire."

"Fuck." One could always trust an articulate and expressive Toreador to find the perfect words for a situation.

Sarah treated me to a rush of images of the Gangrel back when he was Kine and known better as Robert Grey, rather than the slasher of the southern lands. Her older sibling, her only sibling, senior by four years, he had been a good brother, always helping her with homework, giving her lifts, beating up the student who tried to molest her on a date, yes a good brother. He had married his high school girlfriend, knocked her up, gone to college and graduated when Sarah was in first year, then gone on to join a veterinary practice. Sarah was an aunt; no Sarah had been an aunt. All dead now, not like us though, truly bones and dust now.

"What happened?" I wondered as I looked at him sorrowfully.

His eyes widened and shone as tears filled them. "My whole family dead, my life gone," he retorted hatefully. "They wanted to steal from my house...it went wrong, somehow it went wrong and they killed them, Celia and Mikey, somehow those fucks botched it up and murdered them! And not one of them paid, not enough evidence," he sneered, "not enough to condemn them, so what could I do? I had to make them suffer. Revenge. Justice. Whatever you want to call it. Once I found the means, the strength, all I thought about was taking those evil animals, ripping them to shreds and licking their blood from my claws."

Sarah shook, I shook, a crime of theft turned to murder, the criminals flew free, Rob found a Kindred or they found him and then the beast of vengeance was born. "The carnival bloodied, then the warehouse in Downtown, the Anarchs would've seen surely, always witnesses round there and the hotel of luck, luck for you but none for the filthy man."

"All those murders," Kent realised the truth, "that was you?"

"Yes," Rob answered proudly. "At least I put it to use!" he snapped defensively. "How many vampires have used their ability for a just cause?" He shook his head and directed his gaze back on me, still disbelieving that it was me. Was it though? I wondered. "When did you get turned Sarah?" he queried. "Did you know? Did you hear about the deaths?"

"Gone," I murmured, "gone before, bitten many times by poets and madmen. Sarah knew not of the demises. Then you are younger, yes? Older brother but younger Kindred? What snarling creature thought to gift you claws?"

He shrugged, uneasy at my words. "I don't know, he found me drunk and about to kill myself, I guess he considered finishing the job but then changed his mind. He decided to turn me instead, said it would give me a new purpose. He tried to teach me but I didn't care to learn about the Camarilla and shit, all I wanted was to see those murderous assholes pay!" So angry, snarling more than Rob ever had. So perhaps Sarah was not solely cursed in the transformation of flesh and mind?

"Now what?" I wondered.

"The Camarilla that's what," Kent said darkly. "Your murdering spree has been all over the news, the Kine are suspicious and the Camarilla are angry, personally I say to hell with them and their rules, but you're young, you don't get it. You can't survive for too long on your own."

"I've survived so far," he retorted angrily.

"Yes but once they get your scent; so to speak, they will come in numbers. You need sense and allies now."

"The Baron?" I suggested. "Perhaps safety with the stars." I wanted to help him, how could I not? He was suffering so much, his pain agonised me and I knew I could not see him destroyed by the masked men.

"Perhaps," Kent murmured, "since he's your brother I'm sure Isaac will be only too happy to accommodate him. It's risky though," he looked to Rob, "no offence but you'll be risky anywhere. They'll connect the dots soon enough and find a picture of you has formed, I hate to say it but they are clever."

Praise for the Camarilla? How un-Anarch like.

"Well if I'm better on my own fine," he muttered, "finding allies was your idea."

Kent frowned. "Now, I didn't mean it like that, it's just going to take some persuasion that's all. You're strong though, obviously, generally good at hiding, or so I assume, a good hunter and sneaky, for a Gangrel anyway. All good traits, which I'm sure the Anarchs will appreciate if you're trustworthy enough."

"Anarchs?" Rob grumbled. "Trustworthy? What are you talking about?"

"The fanged rebels," I answered helpfully, "who seek to throw off the shackles of the Camarilla and find an undead free state! My Baron belongs to them," I boasted, "as does Kent. I was part-time until the number man fired me, now just casual hours."

"Sarah why do you keep talking like that?" Rob demanded at last as he gave me a worried look. "It's weird; fuck this whole situation is weird. I thought about you, assumed you were happy at college, I wanted to contact you, when the business was done of course, but I never thought..."

"That she would be Kindred," Kent finished dryly. "Well tragic endings, surprise twists and all that, life is sometimes the greatest story of all, much more unbelievable than any book or film. At any rate you really don't know anything, do you? Bad sire you had to leave you in the dark. I suppose turning you was a Masquerade violation, probably why he fled."

I felt the eyes again, angry, watchful and keen, yes eager now, intrigued, fascinated by the murderous Gangrel. Couldn't let the Anarchs have another good soldier. "We should go," I suggested. "Come with us Rob, let Kent explain our nature to you with his silver tongue, and...let us be reunited properly."

He gave me an odd look and frowned. "I don't know, I'm better off alone and I've changed Sarah, I'm not the brother you remember."

"Oh don't assume too much," Kent remarked brightly, "she's not the person you remember either, Hell she's not the person she remembers. It's a Malkavian thing, short explanation, they're mad."

"What?" Rob looked baffled.

Kent sighed dramatically. "Look, you've gotten your revenge, haven't you?" Rob nodded. "Well what next? You're directionless, like all people who want revenge, you find yourself empty at the end, the satisfaction burns brief and it's not enough. You need purpose, and the Anarchs can give it to you."

"So can the Sabbat!" Blurs moved through the air, a body like steel slammed into me, sending me spiralling briefly through air before my flight was ended against a wooden wall. Ah cursed Potence, made the body stronger but not mine alas.

I turned with a snarl and found two Brujah males and a Gangrel looking back. Black ravens attacked me without warning as one of the Brujah moved at me in a blur and kicked me hard in the side. Damn, speed wasn't just a Toreador talent, ah Clan disciplines, so hard to remember, should have studied harder.

"Assholes!" I heard Kent curse.

"What do you want?" Rob demanded. Attack already Rob! Attack!

"You shouldn't listen to them," another Gangrel answered, "the Anarchs will poison you, your gifts are better used in the Sabbat. We understand your rage, the need for vengeance and death; we get it better than the others."

I sent out a wave of hallucination at my attackers, which one of the Brujah managed to dodge. The other pair shrieked as floating eyeballs with teeth attacked their noses. I stood up to meet the Brujah's attack, I tried to dodge but he was quicker than me. He beat my chest in a flurry of fists, causing me to cry out.

"Sarah! Leave her alone!" Rob snarled as the Gangrel rage showed an appearance.

"She is one of them, she will lie to you so you will join them," the Gangrel spoke to him in a deep, rough, "but they are soft and naive. They do not understand your pain and they will not thank you for your anger, exploit you, mould you into one of them, and quash your independence! It's one set of rules for another, only we are without the rules!"

The other Brujah and Gangrel had snapped out of their hallucinations and were preparing to attack me. I faced the second Brujah when he came at me. "Go Berserk," I hissed at him, "get mad, scream, your enemies are all around, beat them, smash them down."

He halted in his attack and turned from me with a scream. His companions cried out in alarm and jumped back when he attacked then. Seizing my moment of glorious opportunity I produced my samurai sword and started slashing. The Brujah tried to avoid me with his speed but he only ended up colliding with his mad partner. The Gangrel sent a nasty little beetle to burrow into my skin. It dug through flesh to hide with bone and make my arm itch and twitch. I slashed out anyway and the Gangrel lost a hand. Another slash through the cheek as he summoned dust at my feet from which a snarling wolf emerged.

I fell down as fangs sank into my teeth and cursed, looking up as the Gangrel came at me. He pounced with bloody stump and claws as his wolf worried at my feet. I raised the sword and swung. Head rolled from body and golden embers singed me as all became ash and dust.

"You'll pay for that!" a Brujah snarled.

They both came at me; guess my mad tricks weren't strong enough to obliterate them completely. I raised my sword to defend myself when a snarling beast half-man and half-wolf attacked them from behind, ripping them limb from limb with its claws. I rose to help it, slashing out gleefully with my sword. I so rarely got to play in such a violent manner, it was a treat.

The blood was everywhere, soon coupled with sparks and ash. They were gone. I heard a Gangrel cried out in rage, he tried to flee and I watched as the blur that was Kent ended him with several shots to the back. It was almost impossible to avoid a Toreador's swift aim.

The beast Gangrel paused with a heavy pant before shrinking back down into Rob, now red eyed and furious. "What the Hell was that about?" he demanded. "Who were they?" He was too angry to feel fear or worry like me. The Sabbat had not come here by chance, they had been watching, watching who though? Us? Rob? They had wanted him but why attack with us there?

I licked my bloodied sword clean and put it away.

"They were members of the Sabbat," Kent answered as he wiped a blob of blood from his chin with a look of revulsion. "A group of backward, violent idiots who hate the Camarilla, which would be a plus, only they hate everything else too. They don't believe in rules or secrecy, or pretence amongst humans, and are quite happy to murder Kine, publicly at times. They claim they're followers of Caine, waiting to be his army, but they're just thugs." He looked about warily and said, "look we should get out of this place."

"Come with us Rob," I begged, "you can learn about Kindred from us and be safe."

Rob looked at me with sorrowful eyes before shaking his head. "No, I can't, not with you Sarah; I just want to forget now, and I need to be alone."

"You'll be destroyed," Kent remarked warningly. "The Camarilla will be after you and the Sabbat are after you; you can't hide from them both. You need to be with others, safety in numbers and all that, and you need to learn more about what you are."

"No!" Rob cried out. "Look I've done fine on my own, okay? No Camarilla or whatever has got me and I will continue to be fine. Besides," he continued to stare at me, "if I really am being chased by all these things then I don't want Sarah caught up in it too."

"Well at least get out of Santa Monica," Rob urged.

"Go to Hollywood," I pleaded, "on your own if you have to but go there, you can be safe there."

Rob glanced away uneasily and shrugged. "I...I'll think about it, I just need to think."

I felt Kent grip my left hand and knew that he was going to pull me away. Beckett would be waiting, we needed to feed, the clock did not stop for us, only for the Mad Hatter. "Well think fast," Kent urged.

"Goodbye Rob," I said softly. "Please go to the acting district."

"Goodbye Sarah," he answered as his grey-blue gaze flickered back to me.

Kent pulled me away, back past the whimpering dogs, through the shack and then back to Santa Monica's unsavoury hobo filled streets. Kent grumbled, "I should have been on the alert, but who could expect Sabbat? Still, it's what Auspex is for."

"The smoky black in the night," I murmured.

He paused to glance at me and nodded. "Yes, from now on we'll have to be on better guard, they said they wanted your brother but I'm not sure, alright there were more of them than us and they're thick enough to take gambles but still, they knew we were Anarchs, did they get that just from our conversation?"

"I think there are many eyes in the night," I murmured, "and much treachery."

"Right, useful as ever, thanks."

"Rob has already died twice, first his family's death killed him, then a Gangrel, he can't die a third time, he can't."

Kent halted and stared at me with an expression I could not decipher. I flinched when he hugged me, briefly and awkwardly. "I'm sorry kid," he said. "It's tough."

I looked up at him when he pulled back, there was something there, understanding? "Do you know?" I pondered.

He looked away from me and frowned. "Maybe," he muttered. "Come on, let's find some Kine already and get to Beckett, we'll be lucky if he's still waiting."

So we wandered the streets looking for easy dinner, I suggested a hobo or a prostitute and snobby Kent looked like he was going to vomit at even the thought. "Diseases," he muttered, "diseases!" One would think he was a Ventrue sometimes. Although when he saw the ample chests of one of the prostitutes he did pause in reconsideration. "Although we can't get diseases," he mused, "and she looks clean, and well-formed, good blood in her."

I pulled him on this time until we found a trio of college girls. We followed them until they headed down an alleyway. Kent approached them and I waited as he mesmerised them with his charm. Then we fed, on one each just leaving the third wheel dazed against the wall. Sarah's flashbacks were subdued; she was too confused and upset to bother me with feeding. So my drinking was only pleasurable.

Once done we headed back to the diner where Beckett stood with an awkward looking Romero, he looked relieved to see us, I had to assumed the archaeologist wasn't the best company. "Well better late than never I suppose," Beckett gave us a dry greeting. "Your friend said you were feeding, were Kine hard to find?"

"No just delayed by Cainites," I answered brightly, "they don't understand punctuality."

"Cainites?" Beckett arched an eyebrow at that.

"Sabbat," Kent said moodily. "Mindless, violent thugs."

"Well to some," Beckett mused, "certainly misguided I would say and not the most low key of individuals but not mindless, no, they seem to have goals, questionable goals of course, but goals nonetheless."

Kent shrugged. "Well if they had any they weren't sharing. Anyway, we should start heading to Downtown already, I've had enough of the sea air."

"Quite, and I am most eager to see this relic you spoke of," Beckett said, his red stare falling on me. I wondered if he had spotted the Pinocchio in me and knew I had exaggerated about the relic.

I nodded happily. "Mr Cross will be happy to see you," I said eagerly, "and happy to see I have completed yet another task."

"Let's grab a cab then," Kent urged. We followed him to a yellow cab with an all too familiar driver. Stalker! I wanted to jump in the front seat and question him but Beckett stole the honour leaving me on the outside at the back as Kent insisted on going between Romero and I. I kept my eyes on the driver's shady reflection but he gave me no clues there. The guy certainly had to earn a decent wage; I had to wonder if there even were other cabs for Kindred.

Our journey was spent mostly in silence; I just stared out the window watching Santa Monica pass us by and wondered if Rob would have the sense to leave. I considered that I should have been more forward with him, perhaps even aggressive, since the Gangrel in him would understand that. I had been too quick to leave him, not persuasive enough.

* * *

><p><em>He looks like a Rob :-) Probably one too many Santa Monica residents that Sarah knows now, at least Kent thinks so, but I had this idea for a long while and I couldn't not do it. Back to Downtown at last, I'd like to write some more on Sebastian, he's woefully unused in this fanfic but then he appears in so many others and other characters deserve their chance. Many thanks for the reviews and favs as always, and to one reviewer, Isaac will be back, I promise and there will be more on his and Ariadne's relationship.<br>_

_And yay Ariadne finally got to use a sword! Been longing for some action scenes since there are plenty in the games but since this is character oriented there's not so much action, more plot twists lol.  
><em>


	22. Chapter 22

Downtown, filthy as always, still with those puzzling men in space suits prowling about the streets. I was tempted to steal one of their masked hats but business had to come first, the Prince was impatient at best. "So," Beckett said in his wonderfully sardonic droll, "shall we go to this relic you spoke so highly of?"

I grinned happily, nodded and pointed to the awaiting tower with its suspiciously tall and slender statues. "This way to mystery, mayhem and princes!"

"Not for me," Kent said stiffly as he frowned at the tower, "this is more than close enough. I'm going to The Last Round; you can find me there after if his highness is generous enough not to stake you. I'm sure he will be though, one thing about the fiend, he's never dull with his punishments."

I looked to the dark haired Toreador with interest. "Speak of experience?" I wondered.

His frown deepened and he turned from me. "Forget it Malk," he grumbled before turning a look on Romero. "You should probably come with me, I doubt Isaac would want his Ghoul walking into a Camarilla tower."

"You know I am a big boy," Romero retorted dryly, "I think I can take care of myself for a while."

Kent shrugged. "Suit yourself although really I don't why you don't just go back to Hollywood. The Malk is as sane as she's going to be, which isn't much, but she doesn't need a babysitter anymore."

"I'm not a babysitter," Romero retorted calmly.

"A Ghoul, a zombie shooter, a grave guard, a sniper, and afraid of Tzimisce," I ranted off, tapping each finger as I did. "Nope, not a babysitter."

"Tzimisce," Kent repeated dryly as he continued to stare at Romero, "how would you even know what those ugly bastards are?" I felt his cool grey gaze on me. "How would either of you know about them?"

"Ah they are the masters of the bone and skin," I answered happily, "dark crafters in the night."

Romero shuddered. "Look I think I'll get to exploring," he said hastily before he started walking off.

"You and that foresight," Kent grumbled as he watched him go, "not that I care but you've upset him. Which I didn't think was possible really, hard to tell what's going on with him, and here I've always just assumed he's insane."

"I thought the Toreadors were all about compassion for humans," Beckett mused, "regardless, I really am pressed for time so if you could sort these personal matters out later."

I nodded as I too stared after Romero, had I upset the crypt keeper? I hadn't meant to, perhaps I should buy him a shiny boom stick as way of apology later. "To the power tower," I announced before leading the way on. "The night is a lascivious libation."

We headed inside where a familiar fat officer with the glaze of doughnut sugar shining on his lips greeted us with a wide smile. "Cupcake," he crooned at me, "it's been ages! How have you been keeping?" he queried happily.

"Oh fine," I murmured, "amnesia, dual persona fighting, reunion with siblings, that sort of thing."

"Er..." He paused for a moment and then looked to Beckett, unnerved just a little by his carmine gaze. "Who's your friend?"

"I am Beckett," Beckett answered.

"The great and wonderful hunter of relics!" I added on brightly. "Here to see Mr. La Croix."

"Ah, well alright, I think he mentioned something about that," Chunk mumbled, "I'll buzz you up." He hit the button and I led the way forward. As usual the metal detectors missed my sword, my keys, my marbles and the knife in my boot. I skipped to the lift, pounced in and was ready to press the buttons and marvel at the lights when Beckett stopped me with a gloved hand.

"I would rather you didn't," he said in his monotone manner.

"But the lights are so pretty," I mused, "like glowing eyes in the walls."

"Indeed." He pressed the PH button and up we went.

I skipped into La Croix's grand room first and was greeted by a ridiculously giant blade to my throat. "Good to see you again," I greeted the Sheriff with a salute from my head to the air, "it's Friday the Thirteenth isn't it? But where's your mask and what do you do every other day of the week? Do you get a decent wage for a once a week slaughter? I don't get much of a wage at all."

"Ariadne, isn't it?" La Croix spoke up sharply from behind his desk. "Ah and Beckett," his tone perked up slightly as the Gangrel arrived behind me. "She found you, good!"

"It was most difficult," I bragged, hoping to impress, "there were mad medics, schizophrenic Barons, nasty schoolgirls, deranged paintings and other night time nasties."

"Yes, yes...I'm sure it was quite an experience," La Croix commented swiftly as he stood up and started walking towards us.

"I did well didn't I? Do I get a cookie? Maybe a gold star? Or perhaps some nice green paper?"

"Yes, yes," La Croix dismissed as he stopped in front of Beckett. "Sheriff put down your sword; eccentric though she may be she is harmless." He waved one hand and the sword was gone and the creepy giant took a few steps back. Harmless? Well I didn't know about that, myselves and I could be rather deadly when we wanted be it with mind games, a hatchet or our beautiful fangs.

I turned to the blonde Prince gleefully but his gaze was still on Beckett. "A Noddist relic was brought to my attention," La Croix explained, "it's extremely old and it looks authentic but only you could really be sure. What I want to know is its meaning; I'll show it to you." He turned from Beckett and led the way over to one of his wooden cabinets. This he unlocked with a tiny, silver key and from within produced a small, steel box, which he sat on his desk. He opened this with another key and then out came a curious treasure of coloured plaster, holes that hinted of missing jewels and faint chips of stolen gold. It was almost ovular in appearance, thicker at the top end with strange square grooves around it and on it were coverings of what I thought was a man, crowned with points to indicate long teeth, and around him kneeling men dashed in red, blood.

"Curious indeed," Beckett mused before turning from it to me, "and just as you described it."

"What?" Sebastian turned to me with a suspicious, blue glance. "You've never seen it," he said in surprise.

"Oh?" Beckett looked at me, his feral eyes twinkling in amusement.

I grinned bashfully and murmured, "had to tell tales to get your attention, had to be successful this time to win the bone." I looked to the handsome prince. "I don't want to disappoint you," I said as sincerely as I could manage, "and I got him here, didn't I?"

"Yes but how did you...how could you?" Sebastian shook his head. "It's the curse of Malkav isn't it?" he grumbled. "It has tainted so many worthy, unfortunate minds. Despite it all though you do have your uses and I suppose so far you have proved your loyalty."

Beckett had returned his attention to the relic and was holding it up, turning and twisting it round as he studied it closely. "This is more than it appears," he mused, "authentic I would say but it's purpose, that is hard to decipher."

"Well it was obtained from a house used by those disgusting Sabbat," Sebastian admitted with a frown, "I'm told they possibly had other items as they fled with several possessions."

"Interesting," Beckett murmured, "the Sabbat certainly are known for their devotion to the elders amongst other things."

"Then you think it's related to the elders?" Sebastian demanded.

"A crowned ancient," I murmured, "powerful nectar through old veins, suck them dry, ascend and bring about the end."

"Nonsense," Sebastian scorned as he frowned my way, "where did you hear such drivel? It's against the Masquerade to commit diablerie and there are no antediluvians."

"Perhaps not," Beckett commented calmly, "but the Sabbat certainly think otherwise." He turned the trinket upside down and pressed against the bottom. "I think it contains something." He sat the item back down, unslung his bag and from it produced a soft, brown, velvet cloth in which several tools were neatly kept. With what looked like tweezers and a thin, metal stick the relic hunter fiddled with the item.

I grew bored and the rumbles of my stomach grew loud. "Are you in need of something?" La Croix asked me with a slight frown.

"A nice feed," I murmured, "something hot and sweet. Does the thirst call upon the Ventrue lord?"

He shook his head briskly. "No, thirst can wait, this is more important."

I pouted and frowned at the item. "The flesh eater would know, spider likes her old treasures, nice gifts to decorate the bloody hovel with."

"What?"

I felt Sebastian's suspicious blue eyes on me along with Beckett's curious red stare. "I can't open this without damaging it," Beckett confessed, "and I'd rather not do that, it is exquisite and very old. It must have a means of opening it, a key."

"Must everything old and dangerous have a key," I lamented.

"What flesh eater were you talking about?" La Croix demanded as my stomach growled again and I licked my fangs impatiently.

I smiled at him. "The one who is not called Pisha," I answered happily, "who plays nurse to film crews and also cook and diner." I giggled.

"Pisha? Ah yes the Nagaraja," Sebastian murmured with a look of distaste, "foul creatures, barely Kindred but we cannot blame one for something they cannot help."

"Doubly damned spider likes old things," I mused.

"A scholar like myself perhaps or just a collector?" Beckett pondered with interest.

"Maybe one, maybe the other, an interest in the occult, curious fetish indeed, like the moonraths' love for cheese."

"Are you suggesting she might be worth consulting over this?" La Croix queried. "I doubt she can be trustworthy, none of her Clan are, flesh eaters are known for their solitary ways and for never staying in one area long enough. I would say if she's a collector of artefacts as you say she will probably just steal this from us rather than offer insight."

"What about where you got it from?" Beckett questioned. "Sabbat who you say fled with other items, quite possibly the key if they were lucky enough to find it wherever they found this."

Sebastian nodded, placed his hands behind his back and began to pace the room in an agitated manner. "They've fled from Downtown of course," he grumbled, "but I don't think they've left L.A, I have Kindred trying to track them of course but there are other matters at hand that need dealt with and I cannot have my sources spread so thin." He paused for a moment and gave me a look I was all too familiar with. Jump doggie, how high prince? Volunteer and you'll be in for it now. Ah words of warning, so often the same as words of wisdom.

"You are proving to be a genuine asset," Sebastian addressed me in a kinder, yet still firm tone, "what would you say to doing a bit of reconnaissance for me?"

Ah that powerful way of speaking, he did not have Isaac's years and confidence and yet it was still somewhat compelling. I was tired though, my holiday had not turned out to be much of one, just one evening for sandcastles and I sorely missed my Baron. Yet I wanted to do good, learn secrets, be useful, to him if not to the paranoid number man. Sebastian would only confide in me if he truly trusted me. Shame to betray such trust and I wondered if I would, if I should. I did like the bossy aristocrat but then I loved Isaac, wonderful, soothing Baron, made the voices quiet, made the world shiny.

"Well?" Sebastian demanded impatiently.

I met his blue-grey gaze and found it oddly persuasive, I considered refusal and wondered how to phrase it nicely. "Hard to consider duty when I'm so thirsty," I murmured, "had to skip breakfast to bring the relic hunter here, didn't want to be late again." I smiled widely at him.

Sebastian glanced at Beckett and then back at me. "Let's talk in private and leave Mr. Beckett to study without distraction." He gestured to the double doors I had entered through.

"Bye bye wolfie," I said cheerfully, earning a wilting red glower in retort. I reached to link hands with Sebastian but he sidestepped me before I could, so I exited ahead of him and waited by the lift doors.

When he followed me out, without his Sheriff I was pleased to see, I immediately queried, "can we feed together? A proof of loyalty," I murmured the words he had used when we had last dined together. That seemed aeons ago now, how close we had been in that one moment and how nice it had been to see Sebastian act like what he was, a vampire.

"Not tonight," he dismissed, "you can go and feed but," he grabbed me tightly by the shoulders and locked eyes with me, "after you will go to the Sabbat. They have a stronghold in Hollywood, find it, find the key to the box and bring it back to me." His words were so strong, I wanted only to obey, yes I would do this, I would find the crazies that shamed the rebels. "You can take whatever aid you need, and I'll give you cash for weapons but don't delay and don't be late in returning, understand?"

I nodded and his grip slackened. He hunted inside his blazer pocket and produced a fat wad of green notes, which I eagerly accepted and pocketed.

"Go then," he commanded, "and don't fail me."

"I won't," I said chirpily with a salute before I danced into the lift. Once I hit the ground floor all I could smell was Chunk's blood, pumping just under his sweating flabs of skin. Ah such tender flesh, Pisha would certainly enjoy it. Mustn't make a mess in the Prince's pad though, wouldn't do well for relations. So I waved and ignored his calls, hurrying back out into the cool, polluted night.

Return to Hollywood and the Sabbat, well at least I would be able to see Isaac again, that was certainly a comfort. Although duty first, no tardiness this time, it would be like stabbing dwarf winged cats in a crate, easy peasy. I hurried through the streets, searching for someone pleasant to feed upon. I found a youthful man in a leather jacket and jeans and pursued him down an alleyway, there I attacked. His blood was savoury, a much craved delicacy on the tongue that made sparks shoot through my mind and Sarah's whispers grow a little louder. I remembered Kent's warnings too and pulled back before I had taken too much. I then patted the dazed Kine on the head, wiped my mouth clean upon his leather sleeve and then hurried on my way.

I was allowed to bring aid with me, must find Romero though I knew he would not go to the Sabbat, too many memories, and then dearest Kent. Was he betraying now? Had he whispered to the rebel master despite his promises? I pondered this as I headed to The Last Round. I passed the usual thugs with knives, Fat Larry with his curious truck of stolen wonders, the men in their strange suits with muffled tongues and my good rival, the Stop sign. I halted and gave a glower. "You stop," I snapped at it. No you. "No you!" I snarled back, determined to win the argument this time. Stop. "Fuck you sign, you stop!" You. "STOP!" You stop. "Well met adversary," I grumbled, "you are indeed a worthy foe. You stop!" I hurried on before it could get a final retort in.

The Last Round stank of smoke, vomit, stale beer and plots as usual. The sweet redheaded damn sail stopped me at the stairs with a hateful glower. "Didn't Nines make it clear you're not welcome here?" she snarled at me. "You can't be trusted, get the fuck out of here and go back to your prince!"

"Ah no use in going back where I have been, I must go forward, and yet back I suppose, to the starry land, oh what a curious contradiction, back to go forward, yet can't go back, must go forward," I murmured as I placed one hand beneath my chin thoughtfully.

"You are one crazy, annoying bitch," Damsel cursed at me, "just fuck off already."

"I am here for the poet," I explained happily, "we made an olive branch over sandcastles and kinky bedrooms."

"What?"

"Three names, Kent Alan Ryan, or is it Kent Ryan Alan?" I pondered. "Hmm KAR oh a secret message and I didn't notice! He's a car in disguise! Here to take over the planet!"

"Oh him," Damsel grunted, "he said he was glad to get rid of you. He's upstairs but don't expect much of a welcome. Kent hates the boot lickers more than the rest of us, if it's possible."

I shrugged and headed to the stairs, so Kent was actor and poet, and perhaps an alien car in Kindred form, well the deception best not be on me this time, I had been played fool enough. Upstairs the hard pounding music boomed a little quieter from the speakers, Skelter guarded the stairs whilst Nines, Jack and Kent occupied a table.

"Good evening," I called out brightly, "the deed is done, let's back to the Baron go Kent!"

"So you're still alive," Jack jeered at me loudly, "well in a manner of speaking." He let out a crude chuckle.

"So he didn't stake you then," Kent muttered, "well what did he do then?"

"Gave me cash and another mission," I answered happily.

"What now?" Kent groaned. "God forbid that French bastard would do his own dirty work."

"Ah but I am better with the laundry," I mused. "To the starry land, an adventure in the pit of Sabbat, looking for a key to a lost treasure. Must don my explorer hat and whip for this journey!"

"Well that's suicide," Kent remarked swiftly, "I hope you're not going."

"I must go," I said firmly, "first aid, then weapons, to the Sabbat, no delaying!"

Kent gave me an odd look and Nines growled out, "she's been Dominated. Exactly why she can't be trusted, she's vulnerable to that bastard's powers so willing or not she's his servant Kent."

"But there were no whips or chains," I admitted woefully, "the Prince is too posh for the dirty things. Ah not like Kent and the schoolgirl."

Kent frowned, stood up and approached me slowly, looking at me curiously and ignoring Jack's laugh and Nines and Skelter's puzzled looks. "Your eyes do have an unusual glaze to them," he murmured, "hard to say if it is unusual for you though. Tell me Malk, what if I say we have to do one other chore first?"

"No, no delay!" I snapped.

"Not even for sandcastles?" he queried curiously.

Oh how tempting but no, had to obey La Croix, had to make him happy. "No, after, after," I insisted.

"Yep, Dominated," Kent groaned, "well Isaac will just love this. What does La Croix need a key for anyway?"

I looked from Kent to Nines mistrustfully. "For an ancient relic," I confessed, "that Beckett is studying. What have you been conversing about here poet?" I demanded.

"Only that you think La Croix has a doughnut fetish," Kent murmured.

"And that we're done with you since apparently even in your madness you're not as stupid as I thought," Nines muttered. "Although working for La Croix and going into a Sabbat den is pretty dumb, which is exactly why Kent won't be following you, that and he can't get anything sane or useful out of you."

Ah no new treachery then, how pleasing!

"Well I'll take her back to Hollywood," Kent offered, he glanced over at Nines and added swiftly, "for Isaac's sake."

"Whatever, the Baron's a fool to like her, but I suppose it's a Toreador thing he can't help," Nines grumbled.

"We must find the crypt keeper and leave then," I said eagerly, "the grains of sand are falling, the tombs will be buried, and time gone from all but Chronus."

"Yes Malk," Kent grumbled sardonically. He looked back to Jack and Nines. "I'll see you both later, best to get this over and done with."

"Do what you gotta do," Jack murmured.

"Be careful though Kent, she's not Abbey," Nines cautioned.

Kent bristled at the name and I was certain it was a glare that he gave the number man. "Who's Abbey?" I queried. "Who? Who?" I bounced up and down on both feet.

"Thanks a lot Nines," Kent grumbled.

Nines shrugged when I looked his way. "You're getting confused Kent, I just want you to watch yourself."

"Is she blonde? Is she brunette? How tall? Glasses, freckles, oh and a love for ponies."

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Kent shrieked it so loudly I was certain he was heard over the rambling metal music. He trembled as he glowered at me but there was a sorrow in his grey eyes, yes even I could see that. "Just shut the fuck up," he repeated, quieter as the grief consumed the anger. He pushed past me to the steps and stormed down them. Still curious, I followed after him but he used a prickle of his Celerity to stay just ahead of me, not enough to spook the Kine, but enough to keep me running and yet still just behind.

Only when we reached the hospital did Kent finally slow and glance over his shoulder to see if I was still following. Naturally I was as loyal as a trained seal lion and firmly close at his heels. "Where's the corpse fucker?" he queried coolly, still angry I supposed.

"I'm not a corpse," I protested in hurt.

Kent sighed. "I know, I'm sorry," he grumbled. "It was a poor tasted joke-"

"Well now it was crunchy and perhaps a little too sweet but with some soy sauce and relish I'm sure it could taste delicious," I assured.

Kent showed a flicker of a smile before forcing a frown back to his handsome features. "Look, you need to shake off Sebastian's domination, I know it's hard, he's strong even if he doesn't look or act it, but you have to, the Sabbat aren't your regular Kindred, they will fuck you up Malk, I mean you mentioned Tzimisce, the Sabbat is full of those guys and Gangrel, and not the educated kind like Beckett, for his clan he's an exception."

"Sebastian's claws were deep in you," I mused, "ah but not just powers, mind tricks and charm, you believed, oh Kent you're a turncoat many times, you must be worn."

He scowled at me. "Fuck you," he snapped. He glanced about the street, contemplating speed but there were too many crowds, drug dealers, drinkers, teenagers, office workers, prostitutes, gangsters and what passed for average these days. "I'm only trying to help you," he snarled.

"I know," I said gently, "but I must go to the Sabbat, not just for his highness, though certainly it's important and imperative, yes, but the Baron needs the royal words in his ears."

"Not that badly," Kent argued as he flung his arms outwards and gave me a serious stare, "trust me; Isaac wouldn't want you messing around with Sabbat just to get information about La Croix for him."

I shrugged. "It will be worth it to paint pictures of ambitions, trips up gilded ladders to bloodied thrones, tearing the essence from dusty flesh, pawns and rebels in a clash and wizards at play, it's role play gone very wrong."

"Yes well, let's just find Romero already, we'll spend the day here and then go to Isaac, maybe he can reason with you."

"No, we must leave as soon as we find Romero, no delay, tardiness is not tolerated, shall get beheaded, and I didn't even steal the tarts!"

"Malk, I'm thirsty, I know you're thirsty, Romero could be anywhere in this place and sunup is in oh, six hours, it sounds like a lot but it's not. Please, just one day to, what was it you had to do?"

"Gather aid and weapons."

"Right, well think of it as taking time to do that and to recuperate, build your strength that is."

I nodded and gave him my own serious stare. "Alright, but no goofing off to banter with the love goddess or steal phoenix eggs or post leaflets about witch trials in Strauss' humble home."

"No problem," Kent muttered, "now come on, moonlight's wasting."

"Hey!" We both turned at the call and my eyes widened as a familiar looking redhead came running over to us. Ah but from where was this one familiar? Bloodied guts, insides on the outsides, oh but had one of myselves done a naughty deed when I wasn't looking? "I know this might sound creepy and all, but please don't blow me off," she babbled as she slowed before us and peered up at Kent hesitantly, "Someone told me I could find you here, I mean, I've been looking all over for you since that night."

"How sweet," I purred, "but that night we were only so briefly acquainted," I mused, "twas but for a mere flick of a chimera's tail."

She looked at me with a puzzled green gaze. "No not you, I mean I don't know you," she said to me before turning her stare back on Kent.

I looked to Kent too; the Toreador appeared embarrassed and was looking at the redhead with apprehension. "Fuck." Ah that wonderful Toreador eloquence all over again.

"Oh Kent bit the purple shrub," I realised, "ah but something more, oh a blood bonding." I pouted. "Romero said it was a bad idea, he forbid me."

"Good," Kent snapped, "is it a bad idea for you to spread your madness." He frowned at the pretty redhead. "Who told you where to find me?" he demanded.

She flinched slightly. "I...I asked around, a couple of students saw you get into a taxi with a woman in a strange costume," she eyed my cute cowgirl outfit pointedly, "and a man in a brown trench coat with red glasses."

"Tis not the glasses that are red," I interrupted.

"Well anyway, I asked around the taxis until I found a driver who said to go to Downtown, so I let him take me here and then I asked around and here you are. You're very handsome," she said softly, "people notice you."

"Well...I mean I suppose that's true," Kent retorted with a hint of pride in his voice.

"I want to...help you," the woman confessed with a small smile, "I owe you my life and, I feel like I need to repay you. Oh, I almost forgot- I'm Heather- Heather Poe."

"Child of the poet?" I pondered. "Then you must know of the treacherous heart!"

She gave me a blank look before shaking her head.

I turned to Kent accusingly. "Did you make and abandon yet another Ghoul?" I queried.

He glowered back at me. "No," he snapped, "I replaced a Ghoul a certain someone so rudely murdered but I was in shit with the same certain someone and I didn't think it wise to bring a new Ghoul into that so I thought to heal her and seek her out when things weren't so crazy."

"Are you talking in riddles?" Heather queried in confusion.

"Ah I love riddles!" I cried out happily. "Is Kent the lovechild of a sphinx? What crawls in the morning, walks in the afternoon and flies in the evening?"

"A bird?" Heather suggested.

I shook my head and laughed. "No a bat with a hangover!"

"Yeah, Heather," Kent addressed his bright eyed Ghoul, "from now on, try not to talk to Miss Crazy here."

"Yes, anything for you," she said in a desperate manner. "Let me help you," she begged, "let me stay with you...Make me feel this way..."

"Ah the new blood seekers," I commented, "so needy and so literal. Well she's not nasally and she has glasses, a vast improvement on Patty cakes."

Kent scowled again and I saw a dart of grief flicker through his grey eyes. "Heather," he spoke to the redhead in a soft tone with a hint of seduction in it, "I get that you are eager for the blood, and that you've been through a lot trying to find me and figure this all out, and I'm impressed that you did find me, and proud. I promise I'll reward it for you soon but right now I have an errand to run, so here," he hunted in his jacket pocket and produced a key upon a diamond shaped key ring, "take this, it's a key to one of my havens, in the Empire Arms, go there and stay there. We will be along later, before sunrise, I promise."

She accepted the key and nodded eagerly. "Yes master," she said quickly before turning and hurrying off.

"I'm going to tell on you," I said as I watched her run with a hint of envy, she could have been my pet.

"You talk and I'll tell Isaac you and Romero have orgies with Kine and Kindred."

"Oh Kent how woefully unfair and cruel, most unbecoming for a Toreador!"

"When I want people to know I have a new Ghoul, they'll know," he said wearily, "now let's find Isaac's Ghoul already."

He started walking once more. "If I were a mad zombie shooter with people issues, where would I be?" he wondered aloud sardonically.

"Kent," I spoke as he walked, "do you miss the fashion loving Ghoul?"

"Her name was Patty and yes, at times. I neglected her though, so it was my fault what happened, she got hungry for the blood and it made her careless."

"Why did you neglect her?"

He sighed and scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "She became vain, greedy and cocky and she wasn't...well she wasn't who I thought she was."

"The sweet, misguided pony lover."

"Fuck Malk I hate you doing that," he snarled at me.

"A lover of fashion, how Toreador," I mused. "Just like the Ghoul, more likely to name stars in the sky though."

"Stop it," he grumbled moodily, "I'm not discussing this with you."

"But the one between eight and ten did compare," I protested, "yet I do not like ponies, donkeys have bigger ears, much better, ah but the simple minds, yes we are like two chipped marbles in a lost pocket."

"Thank frig." Kent quickened his pace and I hurried after, just outside the grand gothic gates that led to the courtyard of the beauty goddess was Romero, leaning against a wall and smoking calmly.

"Grave guard," I cried out happily, "you have missed much! Plots in the tower, lost treasures, Kent's moodiness and his mistakes oh- forget that! He'll tell tales to Isaac of us, lies of group parties in the bedroom!"

"Er, right crazy cat," Romero answered calmly before taking another puff and looking over me to Kent.

"He can know," Kent grumbled, "he's going to meet her soon."

"Meet who?" Romero queried.

"The four eyed redhead," I said happily, "you said the poet would yap if I helped her but he did it!"

"Yap?" Kent queried bitingly. "I don't yap!"

"Wait, who?" Romero questioned with a dull eyed look of confusion.

"You'll see," Kent said, "in fact you can go and see now if you want, the Empire Arms, third floor, room number four, I'll give you the spare key. Can't promise she won't be jumpy, she's not expecting you but then you can handle yourself."

"We're going out for dinner," I explained, "but don't be jealous, tis just a meal among friends. Then sleep and then home to the green leaved and berried woods, and on to find the rule breakers and a key to ancient treasure!"

"Uh huh."

Kent produced another key and handed it to Romero, who put out his cigarette and flicked it away before accepting it. "I suppose if the Ghoul's jumpy and I shoot her, you won't be happy," the crypt keeper said dryly.

"You suppose correctly," Kent answered sharply, "you're older so you should be more mature, play nice and be understanding of her naivety to all this."

"Yeah, okay," Romero retorted dismissively, "I'll see you two soon, enjoy dinner." He headed off, walking casually in the direction of the hotel of ruling limbs.

* * *

><p><em>Had to have Heather in this, such a devoted ghoul, don't know her dialogue is for Toreadors mind but oh well. I discovered that if you refuse to obey La Croix he dominates you into doing his deeds, strange since you're meant to be an all powerful fledgling and it doesn't take much to end him, and you couldn't dominate Therese as a Ventrue, unless your power is simply still developing at that point or, as I like to believe, La Croix actually is quite powerful he just prefers using others. Anyway, that's how I'm doing it here, La Croix is pretty powerful and though Ariadne wasn't refusing she was taking her sweet ass time to get stuff done so he decided to just cut to the chase lol. Think it also shows that their relationship is platonic at best, yes he'll feed with her but she's still just a pawn to him.<br>Little more development for Romero and Kent, mainly thanks to Ariadne's beautiful insight and some blabbing from Nines. Btw I do love Nines as a character but think he prefers to act before thinking and that him and the other Anarchs are too busy obssessing over the rebellion to actually take any real action or come up with a decent plan. Just my opinion of course, but he's still awesome._

_Out of interest, any in game characters anyone would like to see, or see more of? I realise Knox and Bertram have yet to get appearance, think I did enough in Santa Monica though, that arc of the story ran its course and there wasn't a point to fit them in, not saying there won't be anymore Santa Monica action mind but not for a while if at all. Still, it's not like they couldn't leave Santa Monica, anyway let me know. As always thanks for the reviews and favourites, all appreciated!  
><em>


	23. Chapter 23

"The disease queen sleeps here," I mused as Kent dragged me up the corridor, "and the bear master, oh what a wonderful place. I think I dined upon a songwriter here."

"Yes Malk that's nice," Kent scorned as he pressed the button for the lift and then shoved me into it the moment the doors opened.

"Why such scorn poet?" I wondered as I looked at him curiously.

He flustered at me and swallowed down a curse. "You told those women I had a special relationship with the receptionist, the male receptionist," he snarled at me. "Then you asked the receptionist, loudly, if he would date me. What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Well you were looking at him," I mused, "and he gazed at you with such pretty eyes."

"I was checking in," he snapped, "and making sure that we weren't going to have to pick up one of the Ghouls in jail, frig knows if they bothered to check in normally or not. I imagine Heather did, she's a smart girl and subtle I daresay, probably headed straight up to the room and settled herself but Romero, I mean it's a little obvious he's not in public much."

"He was guarding zombies, and Isaac did not permit social breaks," I protested, "it's how we became acquainted." I smiled at that fond memory and then frowned slightly; my dear mad sire had interrupted that. I thought so little of him, it was too painful and confusing, was he madder from captivity or well? I had never asked Isaac, I feared the answer too much. Poor poet, I hoped he was out again, pondering the dark works of Poe and Dante, hadn't they been his favourites? He was more into art I thought, macabre art, hadn't Kent said that?

"Well I know that," Kent murmured as the lift moved up, "Ash told me, in his words you're a depraved slut and Romero was desperate, of course one could hardly expect Ash to be favourable about anyone, especially you. Even before the zombie business though, I mean until recently I've spent most of my time in Downtown but I've gone to Hollywood on errands and Romero has always been cagey. A big fan of the radio mind, bet he never told you that."

"History mars a persona, stains like oil on tar, an ugly mess of scars; they stitched the girl, and remoulded the friend."

"What?"

The lift doors binged open and I skipped out into a brightly lit corridor of cream walls with wooden panels, a rich carpet of navy and gold weaving and mahogany doors on either side. "Like a dish of porridge in the sky, the things that happened were unnatural," I called as I ran backwards down the corridor.

Kent caught up to me in a blur, grabbing me by my shoulders and shaking me. "Are you talking about Romero?" he demanded. "You know Isaac never said how they met, not that I've asked I suppose."

"Oh you and the grave keeper have a bond," I mused, "a dark familiarity, the craftsmen of the night, and the Anarch's kindness."

Kent shuddered and released me. "What do you know?" he grumbled. "You Malkavians always speak in riddles you don't even understand yourselves."

"Lies, tricks and truths, all mingled in the broken shards of the mirror," I mused happily as I turned and continued onwards.

"That's exactly it," Kent snapped, "and why Nines won't trust you, sometimes you speak the truth but other times you lie, sometimes without even realising it."

I glanced back at him and grinned. "Sometimes you lie too pretty poet."

"In our existence lies are needed," he retorted sharply before stopping at a door on the right and knocking it. I knew he could have picked the lock, we both knew that but then we both also knew there was a distinct possibility that if he did that Romero would blow his brains in and we would find out if a vampire could heal from such a wound.

Romero answered and stepped back saying, "so your Ghoul didn't even know she was a Ghoul or you were a Kindred, and why did you give her your blood if you were just going to abandon her? You know I stopped missy from doing the same thing, I didn't realise you were as stupid."

"Don't you of all people lecture me," Kent grumbled as he led the way into his lavish quarters, "I mean seriously, you slept with a Malkavian, you have no high ground to stand on here. Besides, I only had to abandon her because of the Malk and I knew she would find me, she's resourceful and clever, aren't you Heather?"

Heather was standing in the middle of a large living room giving Kent a feverish look. "Yes master," she enthused.

"Master?" I choked out. "I could have been master?" I glowered at Romero. "And you stopped me? Now Kent will have all the fun!"

"We've been through this Malk," Kent chided as he grinned at Heather, "you're bat shit crazy and can't even be responsible for yourself never mind another being and I needed a new Ghoul because you killed my last one."

"You know Nines asked me to do that," I retorted grumpily before forking out my tongue at him. "She chattered too much."

Romero sighed, closed the door and then walked over to one of the couches and flopped down on it sideways.

The television was on, intrigued I hurried until I was standing in front of it, causing Romero to quip, "you're not invisible."

"I can be," I said chirpily.

"No you can't," Kent growled out.

The funny newsman with the brown moustache was on reading out the latest headlines. "The Southland Slasher's last victim was in the Luckee Star Motel in Hollywood, witnesses described the corpse as torn as if by an animal, bits everywhere, murder, murder, murder."

"Rob," I said softly. The Southland Slasher, once my brother Robert Grey when I had been Sarah Grey, now he had a new identity just like me though he was Gangrel and not Malkavian. It was a title the media had given him, prompting me to wonder what he called himself. Had he made it to Hollywood? Had he gone elsewhere? Would I see him again? Would the Sabbat?

"_They stole my bike." I sobbed, hiding my face behind my hands as I felt tears come to my eyes._

"_Well we will steal it back," Rob said firmly. He was always so tough and confident, he had never suffered from bullying, no one would dare._

"_They'll just take it again," I wailed._

"_No they won't, I promise," he assured. "I'll make sure they won't."_

"Malk?" I felt Kent's cold hands grasp mine and I found myself looking up into his concerned grey eyes.

"Is Rob safe?" I wondered aloud.

"I'm sure he is," Kent said.

"Lying again poet," I murmured quietly as I turned away from him.

"It's hard when it's family," he murmured, "I understand that."

"Yes," I answered softly, "you lost Abbey."

His hands stiffened and I found myself gripping them in reassurance. A role reversal, perhaps I could wear the expensive clothes and spout poetry and romance to charm women and he could dress in costumes and rant and rave for a change, maybe it would improve his relationship with Romero or possibly make it much worse. "She was my sister," he whispered before releasing me and turning his attentions back to Heather.

"Are you alright?" This query came from Romero.

I turned to the grave guard and grinned. "I am not wrong," I retorted happily.

"Who's Rob?"

I flinched and felt myself frowning slightly, who was Rob these days? "I don't know anymore," I murmured.

I felt Kent's grey gaze back on me. "I could ring Isaac," he offered, "I need to anyway to tell him we're coming and give him warning about La Croix's latest bullshit."

"So we're going back to Hollywood?" Romero queried in his deadpan way.

"Yes, to find lost treasures and the keymaster amongst the Sabbat."

"Sabbat?" Romero queried coolly. "Those guys that Isaac complains about?"

I nodded happily and Kent commented, "yes, the arseholes of the vampire world, they don't care if Kine find out what they are, frankly they couldn't give a shit, they think this world is theirs to rule, they're brutal, stupid and usually short lived. However, they do have numbers and most of their numbers are made up of Tzimisce and Gangrel, so they're not exactly without strength."

"Tzimisce?" Romero echoed with just a hint of a quake to his voice.

I realised when Kent kept a stare on him that he was deliberately trying to goad Romero into spilling truths. "Yes, Tzimisce, they can give Malkavians a run for their money in terms of fucked up."

"You certainly do curse a lot for a Toreador," I remarked brightly, "shouldn't you be better spoken? Perhaps a bit more pedantic?"

Kent took the time to give me an unimpressed glower. "Are you really lecturing me on Clan behaviour?" he sneered. "I have good diction if that's what you are getting at, would you prefer me to describe the Tzimisce as flesh bending, amoral Kindred who often suffer from being ostentatious as one can expect from the Sabbat?"

I clapped my hands in delight. "I think you've got it," I enthused, "I think you've got it!"

Kent rolled his grey eyes at me before returning his stare to Romero who was trying hard to hide his nerves, pity we vampires could smell it on him, it was sticky and sweet like a sprinkling of syrup left out too long in the summer sun.

"I don't think I'll be going with you," Romero murmured, "er...I mean I'll come back to Hollywood of course but then you're on your own."

I frowned and leaned close to him. "I'll miss you grave guard," I said sincerely, "you have a most accurate aim and the poet won't come with me either. Well at least I have the voices; the journey would be most unpleasant alone."

Romero flickered a curious olive gaze at Kent. "You're not going either?" he queried, almost accusingly. Hmm perhaps the grave guardian knew Kent was trying to goad him?

Kent shrugged. "I'm not feeling suicidal at the moment."

"That and he has a most tarnished history with the Sabbat," I said dramatically.

"Shut it Malk," Kent growled angrily.

Romero folded his arms and stared at Kent suspiciously. "Weren't you trying to learn my history?" he demanded angrily. "Why don't we hear yours?"

Kent scowled at him and paced back, turning to Heather briefly. The good Ghoul was hovering near the table trying to look inconspicuous, arms folded and tongue quiet, oh what a joyous pet I had missed out on. "Look I don't know anything," Kent confessed, "the Malk was just blabbing in that irritable and yet disturbingly accurate way of hers." He flashed Romero a biting smile. "What can I say? You are an oddity, it makes me curious."

"Oh and you're real normal," Romero retorted in a deadpan manner. "Look, I have a history with the..."

"Flesh makers," I filled in helpfully with a smile.

Romero shuddered. "Right, them, but I don't really see a point in discussing it."

"Because it might persuade your girlfriend not to go wandering into their den," Kent suggested.

"You have a girlfriend?" I questioned in surprise as I looked from the poet to the Ghoul in alarm. "Who is she? Is she prettier than me?"

Kent snickered. "I was referring to you Malk," he said sardonically, "although what the Hell right you would have to get jealous or paranoid I don't know." He shook his head. "What Isaac's deal with you is I will never know. Anyway, it's late or early depending on how you look at it; I think we should all go to bed." He looked at Romero and I pointedly. "I think it goes without saying that you two aren't sharing a room." He looked back to Heather and said, "Ghouls you can bunk together here in the living room, play nice. Malk, you can stay in the spare room and I will take the master suite."

"Of course," Romero remarked dryly.

"Well I am paying for this place," Kent grumbled. He walked over to Heather and patted her gently on her soft red hair. "You will be alright," he assured, "Romero is on our side even if he is a weirdo."

"Yes master," Heather answered with an adoring green look.

I sighed and grabbed Romero in a cuddle before he flinched back. "Good night," I said happily, "sleep tight and don't be wandering to the redhead when it's bright."

"I won't crazy cat," he muttered as he embraced me awkwardly with one hand.

I pulled back and smiled up at him. "Loss is tragic," I said seriously, "when you lose your friends like a cat loses butter, it's easier not to find new ones, no one to lose then."

Romero gave a heavy sigh before shrugging out of my grasp. "Good night," he said dismissively.

I frowned and skipped to the spare room. It was large but lonely and I was unhappy to curl up alone. When I slipped into slumber I thought of the dear Baron, Romero's warm embrace was nice but the Baron's cold, fond grasp was soothing and sweet, I longed for it and him.

Hollywood, I was so happy to see it I opened the taxi's door and jumped out before the taxi stopped. I ran off leaving Kent to curse behind me, darting into the first familiar building I came across. The morose music in the Asp hole was pounding as loud as ever and as expected the usual group of preened pretentious peacocks were gathered round in small groups- would be idols, models, B stars, it girls and those of rich families. I bit one once hoping to see blue blood but alas it had been disappointingly crimson and not worth Ash's scorn because I had attacked someone outside his club.

I noticed the obvious presence of tall, shady characters in long, brown coats with suspicious, beady black eyes and permanent scowls. They were not of the usual club goers, perhaps they were the Men in Brown, cousins to the Men in Black, maybe fey in disguise come to steal some youthful souls to take back to fairyland or perhaps they were simply foreigners trying to introduce a new trend, trench coats in clubs.

I darted round the club eagerly hunting for Ash and after bumping into his reflection, who frowned when I tried to shatter him with a simple tap on the head, I found him upstairs, as moody as ever. He scowled when he spotted me though I was certain his pale blue eyes sparked with delight. "Dead phoenix, I missed you!" I exclaimed happily.

"Well the feeling is not mutual," he retorted flatly.

"Did you know you have a new trend starting here?" I queried curiously. "Men in brown coats, I guess they're dedicated to fashion or maybe they have something to hide."

"They're hunters idiot," he retorted moodily, "in front, back, inside my club. That Sabbat's killings caused way too much interest here, throw in some more disappearances and they're getting suspicious. What does it matter though? I could challenge them; go out in a blaze of glory. And you know what- knowing that...it doesn't bother me."

"Yes dead phoenix, you're an emo, we all know and love you for it."

He frowned at me. "I don't know why I waste my time with you or why Isaac does for that matter. I was hoping you got staked in Downtown by that Prince but I guess he's either too dumb to do it or like Isaac, somehow able to ignore your annoying, idiotic, mad personality."

"Oh you say such lovely things firespawn," I mused happily. "I really did miss your sarcasm and your self-pity; you make my nights seem brighter. I would like to help you; shall I lure the hunters away? Lay a false trail, and be their fox. Not now mind, it shall have to be another night, I have important business to attend to."

"Exactly," Kent's less than impressed voice snapped from behind me. "Next time you feel the urge to jump out of a taxi don't. For one, Kine ask questions when you bounce onto the road with ease and run off without a scratch, for another, it's stupid and for a third, it makes it hard to keep track of you when the rest of us have to wait for the taxi to stop."

"Why bother keeping track of her?" Ash asked dryly.

"Someone has to," Kent grumbled. "How are you Ash?"

"Fine, until she returned," he said with an accusing look at me.

"Untrue!" I protested before forking my tongue out at him. "He is haunted by hunters."

"I noticed," Kent remarked grimly. "Why haven't they left yet?"

Ash shrugged. "I'm too interesting for them I suppose," he murmured dryly.

"Yes but we got the Sabbat killer who made the Ventrue disappear," Kent commented.

"Yes but there are others still disappearing," Ash replied glumly, "Isaac thinks it's Sabbat again, he's convinced they have a base somewhere near."

Kent glanced at me whilst I looked at Ash hopefully. "Where? Where?" I demanded.

He frowned at me and snapped, "well if we knew that it wouldn't still be there. Why do you care anyway?"

"Never mind," Kent answered quickly, "we need to go now anyway. Come on Malk, Isaac will be expecting us." He grabbed me by my left arm before I could protest and pulled me down the stairs and back to Hollywood's filthy, light filled streets. Heather stood on the edge of the footpath looking around in awe whilst Romero stood a few feet from her smoking.

"Time to go," Kent said as he started to pull me up the path. "Hopefully Isaac can persuade you that going to the Sabbat is suicide," he grumbled.

"I thought you and the grave guard were going to entertain and warn with stories," I said hopefully, "of lost battles with Sabbat, of treachery, murder and brave rescues!"

Kent said nothing, merely quickened his pace.

We eventually arrived at Isaac's house of treasures and trinkets and Kent all but pushed me through the glittering glass decorated door. For once my many personas and I were in union with our emotions- shock, joy and just a tinge of guilt.

He was a little more nervous than usual, glancing at me first with shock and then with apprehension. He turned up to the Baron curiously, as if awaiting an order or permission and clasped his hands together, to calm himself I supposed.

"Alex," I spoke his name, half-expecting him to vanish with it.

"Ariadne," he answered with a flicker of a smile.

"I missed you dead poet," I said sincerely, "Kent's poems are worse than yours, he's better at art."

"When have you read my poetry?" Kent snapped as he released my arm at last.

"I found it in your coat," I murmured happily, "'and all the world is black, red and grey', absolutely dreadful Kent."

"I told you to keep away from my stuff," he snarled at me.

Isaac and Alex both let out a chortle. I turned my gaze on the Baron then and sprang at him with an excited squeal. He raised his hands in time to stop me, before easing me into a gentle embrace. "I missed you too," I remarked as I nuzzled his chest, "it's never the same without you."

"I missed you as well Ariadne," Isaac said gently before pushing me back a little, "as has Alex. He has been out for a week now, feeding and recovering. He is doing well."

"I was in Romero's basement," Alex murmured, "after Xander, I was hard to trust, I know, he framed me, it made things suspicious but Isaac knows the truth now."

"Indeed," Kent muttered dryly.

I grinned at Alex reassuringly. "We all know the truth, twas the Malkavian, not the Toreador, worry not Alex."

"So how was Downtown?" Isaac queried. "And Santa Monica?"

"The less of the latter the better," Kent grumbled, "bat shit crazy here went madder than usual, as you know, but finally came to some of her senses, which is all that can be expected. Then we got jumped by some Sabbat, which we took care of, and then we went to Downtown, where the Malk got dominated into a suicide mission."

"What?" Isaac demanded as he gripped my shoulders and stared at me with worry.

"What about Rob?" I wondered aloud. "You missed out Rob."

"Right, her Gangrel brother, part of the whole unforgettable Santa Monica reunion," Kent muttered. "I told him to come here, did he?"

Isaac shook his head. "That's not to say he's not here," the Baron said to me reassuringly, "just simply that he has not brought his presence to my attention. Now what about this domination, a cruel ploy of that fop of a Prince I assume?"

"He wants her to find a Sabbat base here in Hollywood and get some sort of key from them, a relic or something, to unlock some old artefact he has," Kent explained.

"The Prince thought I played games so to the lady by the sea he sent me to find the relic master," I commented. "He considers me most loyal now and only one most trusted could be granted the task of finding the key to the nodding relic. I must obey, must succeed, failed before, can't be tardy."

"You see," Kent said pointedly, "Domination."

"Who's outside?" Alex asked suddenly.

We all turned at his words to the open doorway. "Oh, the Ghouls," Kent grumbled. "Come in," he called to them.

"I can't smoke inside," Romero called back whilst Heather poked a curious, slightly uneasy head around the door.

"Who's this?" Isaac asked.

"Kent made a Ghoul!" I exclaimed. "Twas meant to be me and mine but Romero stopped me," I looked at Isaac woefully, "it's not fair; she calls him master, I should be master! Romero said he'd get in trouble if I made one."

"I would get in trouble if you did!" Romero called out.

"He's right, you're not responsible," Kent said scornfully, "whilst I on the other hand most certainly am and I use Ghouls to their full potential and as has been said, I needed one after you killed the last one."

"Kk..kill...killed?" Heather stammered nervously. She came stumbling in suddenly when Romero gave her a helpful shove. Her green eyes fell on me and widened.

"I haven't made a habit of it," I informed her with a smile.

"And you won't either," Kent grumbled.

"Does your Ghoul have a name?" Alex queried as he studied her. I guess it was rare for natural redheads to meet, and we all knew V.V's hair wasn't natural.

Kent bristled and scowled at Alex, their old rivalry evidently not forgotten. "Heather Poe," he introduced waspishly.

"But not a relation to Edgar or Allen," I said sorrowfully.

"Well I am Isaac Abrams," Isaac greeted politely, "and this is Alex."

Heather nodded quickly at him before glancing about the place and then settling her gaze safely on Kent.

"Anyway, tell the Malk she can't go to the Sabbat Isaac," Kent implored.

"Does she even know where they are?" Alex queried as he looked at me with worry.

"She'll find them with that foresight of hers," Kent grumbled, "and we all know it. She always manages to find what she's looking for eventually, she found the Sabbat killer after all, and Beckett."

"Ariadne let that baby faced bit of a prince do his own deeds," Isaac addressed me with a stern look. "The Sabbat are no simple threat."

"Everyone says that," I murmured, "but no one goes into details. They played puzzles with Romero's friends and maybe the pony lover scream."

"Stop it," Kent hissed hatefully.

Isaac looked to him curiously. "Does something in that offend you?" he queried.

"Abbey," I mused softly, "little Abbey, never quite all there, such a tender soul." I felt his hand before I saw him move, pain flooded through my cheek and then my skull when I bounced off the wall.

There was a hiss and a cry as two blurs fought near my vision. I felt cold hands help me to my feet and embrace me loosely, as if they were afraid to hold me close. Kent hit the wall hard and gave an angry grunt. His lip was bloodied, his right arm crooked and his grey eyes brimming with tears. "You don't understand," he babbled up at Isaac's glowering form. The Baron was still, not a strand out of place, not even a wrinkle upon his fine, soft clothes, and yet we all knew it had been who had beaten Kent so swiftly. "That fucking sight of hers! She shouldn't know! She shouldn't say either," he snarled angrily.

"No she shouldn't," Romero remarked calmly as he entered at last, pausing to give a nod to Isaac, "but maybe we should. If you really don't want her going after the Sabbat, and I know I don't, maybe you should tell her what they can do." The Ghoul looked nervous again and I smelt his fear thick on the air coupled with Heather's fright and worry.

Kent clutched at his face with both hands and let out a low wail that sent a jolt of surprise through me, yes Toreadors were emotional but I never seen the dark haired one in such a state. "You won't understand," he muttered again, "you'll cast me out, I'm be a pariah to the Anarchs and it's not like that, it's not."


	24. Chapter 24

Kent calmed down only after Ginger Swan had appeared, made a fuss over his teary, bloodied state, chided Isaac and then dried the Toreador's tears with a delicate lace handkerchief, and jostled him into the more comfortable living room and onto the couch. We had followed them in there and now I sat between Isaac and Alex, Heather stood gingerly close to Kent, whom Ginger sat beside, and Romero lingered uncomfortably against a wall. I wondered if all gingers were naturally cautious and that was how the word gingerly came about and if so, did that mean all black haired individuals had grim thoughts by nature and thus the word blackly was born? Hmm so what emotions then were blondely and brunettely?

After Kent babbled a little Ginger suggested kindly, "start from the beginning dear."

"Oh yes where was the poet born? And was it bloody and long?" I wondered curiously.

"Not that far back," Isaac commented dryly.

Kent spared me an unimpressed glower before turning his wounded stare on Isaac. "I was turned by a member of the Camarilla," he confessed, "a Toreador named Elisabeth, she brought me into the fold and I...well I supported them and I..." He grimaced. "I worked for them alright, I thought at the time that they had the right idea, keeping things secret from the Kine, setting laws down, it made sense then, I had laws to obey as a Kine and so I should as a Kindred otherwise there would only be chaos. So I worked for them and I climbed up the ranks and... Shit you're going to hate me, you're going to fucking hate me and cast me out," he grumbled miserably.

Ginger patted him gently on the head and I let out a growl, why could I not pet the poet? I felt Isaac grip my left hand kindly and yet firmly. "Now Kent," Ginger murmured, "the past is in the past, we cannot condemn people for having a history."

Kent shook his head, keeping his stare on Isaac. "I met him," he confessed, practically spitting out the word 'him', "that fucking charming, snaky, selfish dickhead of a prince."

"Ah the jester!" I exclaimed with delight.

"La Croix," Isaac commented coldly.

Kent nodded and grasped his head with both hands and let out another groan, always with the theatrics these Toreadors. He then dropped his hands by his side, bowed his head briefly and then looked back up with rage filled eyes. "I...fuck I admired him, I hate myself for it but I did, I believed in him even and I wanted to serve his cause. I was one of those deluded, idiotic Camarilla whelps, a slave to the cause, he'd command and I would bark and obey like a good dog," he snarled hatefully.

"What went wrong?" Alex spoke up quietly drawing a glare from Kent.

"Sabbat," Kent retorted angrily. "I had to keep their ranks down, and fuck up their plans, made more than a few enemies doing that, but sure it was all for the Camarilla, I was doing what was right, all for his highness, he paid me well, promoted me and promised me all these things. Ah fuck." He threw his head into hands, grasped at his hair tightly and sobbed.

"There now Kent," Ginger remarked gently, "you know he's bad now and that the Camarilla are too corrupt to be right. You were just a fledgling, you did not know any better and you followed the path your maker set out for you, we cannot blame you for that." As she spoke she looked to Isaac, at first pleadingly and then angrily, bidding the Baron to say something consoling.

All Isaac said was, "what happened Kent?"

"They took her," Kent rasped into his hands before raising his head once more, "my beautiful little sister. She was only fourteen and so innocent, she...well she was never all there, always a little slow at school, had to go to a special school, but it didn't stop her from being so good and happy, she was always happy. She always smiled until those fucks got her. What they did... I...I didn't believe they had her at first, they sent me her hair...her finger...all a ruse...He promised as much too, but how did they know her name? Then the photograph and a demand, me for her. He told me not to go, said it was obviously a trap, but how could I not? She was so sweet and innocent and like a child in the mind, she didn't deserve that, couldn't cope ah... I said I was going, so he promised me aid, said he wouldn't see someone he valued so much go out like that. An ambush, I would merely be bait, keep them distracted and give the troops a chance." Kent shook his head bitterly. "I went and then took me to her just like they promised. THEY HAD BEHEADED HER AND STITCHED A FUCKING HORSE'S HEAD TO HER NECK!" he screamed.

Ginger and Heather both let out gasps and then Heather began to cry quietly as Kent started to sob loudly. "A FUCKING HORSE'S HEAD!" he repeated.

Romero grumbled a curse whilst Alex murmured something that sounded sympathetic.

"And what did they do to you?" Isaac queried. I looked to the Baron and saw no horror or shock on his face; he masked it all too well. No doubt a trait picked up from the acting industry. I felt revulsion but showed only curiosity.

Kent quivered and sobbed and I thought he would not answer but at last he stammered, "lots, I was given to Gangrel rather than Tzimisce, a small mercy I suppose, they just wanted to hurt me not experiment on me. I kept telling myself night after night that help was coming and revenge with it, that that wanker valued me, that he knew where I was, that hundreds would come to wipe them all out. Of course no one did, I had gone into the trap, he wasn't going to reward my stupidity with rescue, at least I'm sure that's how he saw it. If I was foolish enough to go by myself to a Sabbat den then I wasn't worth having around. I should have expected it, if he had really wanted to help he would have sent Kindred with me, but no, I was idiotic, I believed his suggestion that I be bait and distraction. I thought it clever." He laughed bitterly then. "I deserved what I got but not her, not Abbey, oh shit the wounds on her, they kept her alive for four days, that's what they told me, four days of that! Bad enough for a normal adult, tortured by monsters, but her mind was so fragile and torn already, what that must have done to her... She screamed for me, they made her scream for me," he shuddered again, "they taped her doing it and played it to me over and over and over. Oh fuck did she scream."

"Surely he's told us enough," Ginger said as she attempted to embrace him with one hand only to be shrugged off.

"How did you escape?" Alex queried, evidently not agreeing with the featherless swan.

"I didn't," Kent choked out, "the Anarchs bombed the place because the Tzimisce started taking some of their members to...well experiment on. Nines found me in the debris; I was delirious from thirst, mad from pain and suicidal out of guilt. I would have happily burned in the sun and begged to but he wouldn't hear of it. Said I was lucky to survive and shouldn't spurn such fortune, I cursed at him, laughed at his mention of luck and begged to die but he was determined to save me."

"You didn't tell him about La Croix, did you?" Alex accused. "Or the Camarilla?"

"No," Kent grumbled, "I was too delirious to consider telling him, pity since he might have let me burn if I had. When he explained who and what he was and all about his hatred of that asshole, well I had to join. I wanted revenge, I still do, he let me believe he valued me, promised me help and then let me go to that hell and abandoned me to it. Shit I did deserve it but I still want him to pay."

I tugged my hand free from Isaac, stood up and approached Kent then. "Poor poet," I sympathised, "confused loyalties and misplaced guilt. Couldn't burn and still can't so someone else must. Such a loss you would be though, you have your affections and uses." I grinned brightly at him. "You can build sandcastles, and play sex games to keep me safe."

He gave me a stony gaze. "Are you trying to comfort me?" he queried doubtfully.

"The loss cuts deep," I murmured, "and they should pay, not you though, you did not do it to her. Don't believe that poet, remember her as the playful pony lover, not as their victim, memories must be happy."

"I did do it to her," he snapped waspishly, "they took her to get to me, they dragged her into this world because of me and they tortured her as revenge on me. I was too late to believe she was there, she suffered needlessly because I doubted and then I was too late to save her."

"You would have never been on time," I mused, "they held the watch not you Kent, they do not have mercy and they make no fair trades. You earned her death at least, if you had simply ignored, she would have never been given release."

He glowered at me. "Are you trying to suggest that her dying is something I should be thankful for?" he demanded.

"Better than her continuing to suffer," Alex spoke up calmly, "which is what would have happened if you had listened to La Croix and just accepted you could do nothing and left her to her fate. You risked everything Kent and even if you don't realise it you did save her in a way, just not the way that would have been preferable."

Kent shook his head angrily. "You're both wrong," he growled out. "I shouldn't have been so damn thick as to join the Camarilla, I shouldn't have done their dirty work, his dirty work, he asked me to destroy some Sabbat and I did, then they took their revenge out on Abbey, but it should have been him! He never pays the price for his demands!"

"No he doesn't," Isaac spoke up at last, "and too many suffer for it. Kent, you were just another victim of his games, and your sister was a victim of Sabbat brutality, something you cannot blame yourself for. You could not have foreseen what they could and would do; no doubt you were not educated well in the ways of the Sabbat. You went knowingly into a trap to save her, that's brave, not foolish, and I admire you for it. I am only so sad to hear that it did not end well for your sister, but glad that you at least could be saved so that I might have you as a friend and ally."

"Then you still consider me those things?" Kent questioned cautiously. "Even though I hid my alliance with him and the Camarilla from you?"

"You are no longer one of them, and I will not hold your past against you, it is the present you that concerns me," Isaac answered gently.

Kent sighed. "I'm no better than her," he muttered as he gestured up at me loosely with his right hand, "I've served both sides now, it makes me unreliable. Though I am only an Anarch, that I swear, but still, my past taints me, Nines wouldn't trust me, he doesn't trust her despite all she's done for us."

I beamed proudly at that. "Nines is paranoid," I mused, "but Isaac is wiser."

"Indeed," Isaac commented stiffly, though there was a hint of pride in his voice. "Nines has simply suffered too much to be trusting, he dwells close to the Prince, and as such suffers much misfortune, and must question his allies more as they too dwell close to the Prince. I can afford to be more open minded, plus the Brujah blood in him can be unforgiving, but do not hold it against him, either of you. Nines is a good ally and when you have his trust you shall keep it."

"Until he has good reason to take it back," Kent muttered woefully, "which he will when he learns about me. I don't deserve his trust, he saved me and I kept this from him."

"And you should continue to do so," the Baron advised, "for he is bull headed sometimes, he will probably not be as understanding as I, though he should be. It will be a secret kept for the best reasons I think, your silence on your past will not harm the cause after all."

Kent looked at Isaac with surprise whilst I grinned at him happily. "Then...you don't want to kick me out or let Nines know?" he questioned slowly.

Isaac nodded. "I believe you are loyal to us and have been since you joined us, you were with the Camarilla out of misguidance not malice and you are with them no longer. I won't hold that against you. I trust you Kent and shall continue to do so. As for Nines, you are a strong ally to him; it would be a pity for him to lose you simply because he has poor judgement when it comes to one's history. He has already lost Ariadne's usefulness; let us spare him the loss of you."

"I was indeed useful," I lamented.

Isaac turned his golden gaze on me. "So Ariadne, now that you know of this tragedy are you still so ready to go into the Sabbat's den?"

I nodded eagerly. "I must, the Prince depends on me, a key for a treasure, only I can find it," I bragged. "It will be treacherous but I'm brave, I can win this key."

"Idiot," Kent spat out, "fucking idiot. They will torture you like they did me, maybe worse; maybe some Tzimisce will cut you up and reknit you as a mutant. As for your Prince, you are no more valued to him than I was, if you fail at this he won't come to help you, he will simply send another."

"I am not failure, I've already delayed with so many tasks and I should make haste, they key is important, for the nodding relic with the crowned Kindred."

"Noddist relic," Kent corrected in a tired manner as he shook his head. "Well you are on your own I won't go back to one of their hells willingly."

Isaac sighed. "Ariadne, Kent's situation is not unique, he was not the victim of particularly brutal Sabbat, they are all just as brutal and violent." He turned to Romero and I followed his stare. The grave keeper looked back at us as calmly as he could and gave a sardonic smile. "Perhaps we should tell her how you and I met Romero," Isaac suggested.

I clapped my hands with delight. "More secrets and stories, tales of violence and loss to sway the minds but the voices are one in this decision, must find the key."

"Domination," Kent grumbled, "he's so fucking good at dominating."

I glanced at him curiously but he had bowed his head so I could not spy anything in his grey gaze. Did the weeping Toreador speak of experience?

"I'll be blunt," Romero spoke up in his deadpan way, "I didn't know anything about your lot or them, I was just your average guy minding his own business and thinking that the world was dark but not that dark. I was out with two of my friends; we had a few drinks and then went on a stroll through a park where we got jumped. They were monsters, no other way to describe them, ugly, misshapen bastards with horns and weird skin, nothing human about them unlike most of you. They took us to one of their dungeons, needed some new meat they said and well...you know what they do."

"What?" I demanded. He was being purposely vague, name no names and you don't have to relive it, no details and you don't have to see it all over again. Your best friend, his girlfriend that you loved too, all twisted and bent, screaming and shrieking, one is a pile of mixed up bones and flesh now, probably rotted but maybe not and the other, she got away. A great beast, once one now three. "Unhappy trio," I murmured, "the many legged beast with two screaming minds."

Romero stiffened and gave me a wary gaze. "That sight of yours really is a curse," he muttered. "That's what they do, at least it's what they did, cut up people, joined them onto other things, melding the flesh, that's what he called it, reshaped bodies to make minions for themselves."

"He?" Alex echoed.

"Andrei," Isaac answered, "leader of the Sabbat in Los Angeles, a Tzimisce of course, it is they who twist the flesh with their discipline Vicissitude," he explained coldly, "an abhorrent act of nature that they use to make monsters."

"Anyway," Romero continued, with a forced air of calm, "they had some fun with us, and then Isaac and his army showed up."

"I know the details hurt Romero," Isaac commented sympathetically, "but in this case they are necessary, you must tell Ariadne what happened so she will not end up in their clutches."

Romero sighed heavily and fixed his olive gaze on me. "Alright, alright," he muttered. "They tortured all of us, wanted to see how long we could withstand the pain and what pain we could cope with best, they wanted to know how durable our bodies were and what improvements needed made. They started to experiment after a while, picked Rick first, turned him into...well there's no word for it. Somehow kept alive throughout it too, don't know how and I don't want to but that guy...Andrei, he was the best at it and the most involved. He had the rest keep testing Ellie and I while they kept working on Rick, I saw them stretch his skin while they burned me, they broke his bones, took one of his arms clean off and stuck two more on him, turned his organs out, stretched his spine, well you get the idea. They went too far and what they were left with was a clumsy monster, it could barely walk but they kept it. Then they turned on Ellie, I begged them to deal with me instead but hey, they'd already dealt with one man, it was time to see how a woman compared. Well they did worse things to her, and others, I forgot there were others...easy to drown out the screams with your own I suppose. One woman was pregnant now shit, how did I forget that?" He shrugged. "Suppose I just wanted to," he murmured indifferently.

"Fuck," Kent said bluntly.

Heather clapped her hands to her ears, quivered and whimpered. Kent ignored his Ghoul and Ginger was forced to stand and reach out to her sympathetically. Nervous though, the redhead pulled away with a shake of her head. I wanted to console too, to embrace the poor grave keeper but I feared he would lose his resolve if I did.

"Yeah well turns out babies aren't much use to them; they took it out and then...then..." He looked hard at me. "Look either you go into their den or you don't, it's stupid and dangerous but I think you get that now, nothing I say is going to add to that."

I nodded. It was horrid, bloody and almost unbelievable, I should not go to the monsters and yet I could not fail or be late again, the Prince had been clear and he had such faith, surely I could do this. He said I could, so I could, yes, I was strong. Ah but I was just one being, well many beings but only one body, foolish wasn't it? Yet he had said, my handsome Prince had been most firm about the matter and I could not disobey.

"No keep going," Alex urged, "you're getting through to her, I can feel it. She's cracking, a chink in one mind at least." Hmm was that almost Malkavian talk from my beloved Toreador? My sire? No Xander was the sire, remember? Dust now, staked by brave Alex. No sire, the false one was gone too, just a fanged orphan in this world.

Romero flickered a gaze to him and I wondered if he knew the true tale of Alex and Xander, most likely not, probably just told what he needed to be like firespawn and the others. "Alright, well if it helps you crazy cat then you can hear the gory details and I promise, they are gory. They stitched them together, Ellie, the woman they had forced an abortion on and another, a third whose lower half was all they needed, she was fortunate, she got to die. Now understand they're not quick about it, I counted out thirty days before I just stopped counting, thirty days of that hell, ten of which they worked on Rick and five on Ellie and then some, when her screams stopped sounding like hers and instead became the wails of a monster, then I stopped counting."

"What about you grave guard?" I pondered quietly. "What of your pain?"

"Nothing compared to hers," he said dismissively, "of course you could suppose the pain of watching her go through that was enough for me. Pity the Sabbat didn't think that, they flailed my skin, wanted to see how quickly it tore off, then they poured things on and in the blood, things that burned and itched, and poisoned it. I suppose I probably would have died soon enough or simply become one of their things, certainly they were about to twist my skin and add some parts to me that I didn't want but then the Baron came."

"Too late for your friends," Isaac commented wistfully, "and too late to destroy that revolting Tzimisce, he ran before I and my allies arrived."

"And then you gave Romero the blood gift," I concluded the grim tale.

"Well I would've died otherwise," Romero murmured and I saw in his eyes that like Kent he would have preferred death then.

"We both lost people to them," Kent remarked as he looked at Romero before turning his stare on me, "and if you go we'll lose you too."

"He's right crazy cat," Romero commented calmly, "vampire or not you won't stand a chance against them."

I shook my head in irritation. "I've already delayed, he said not to, just for aid but not for bitter memories. Besides, the Sabbat draw hunters to Hollywood, they're bad for everyone, must sniff them out and burn them down."

"They have Kine helping them," Isaac warned me, "even if you could locate them it would be difficult to plant a bomb to obliterate them."

"And it might destroy the key," I scorned, "no bombs, find the treasure then deal out the fire."

"You're determined to be awkward and stupid," Kent scorned. "Domifuckination. Look I need to feed, come with me Malk, you need to feed too and I'm sure his highness permitted delay for that."

I nodded though I was unsure.

"Well come on then." He stood up from the couch and looked guiltily at the trembling Ghoul. "Stay here Heather," he ordered, "you're safe here." He glanced at Isaac. "That is, if you're allowed to."

Isaac nodded. "Indeed, Romero can find her more humane quarters, he knows this building well." He then stood up and stepped close to Kent. "Bring her back tonight," he said pleadingly.

Kent nodded. "I will, don't worry, I know the ins and outs of Domination, typical Ventrue trick, they just have to control everyone one way or another." He turned his attention back to me and grabbed my right arm tightly. "Let's go already," he said gruffly.

So out to the grim streets of Hollywood we went. I thought the sight of scantily clad vulnerable women would cheer Kent up but he barely glanced at them. Instead we kept walking until we reached the pulsing, bubbling Vesuvius, into which Kent escorted me. Perhaps he needed women that were simply not wearing clothes at all then. Not to my tastes but then their blood was bittersweet and it did irk the usually composed V.V so when I dined here.

Inside Kent did not stop to gawk at the dancing women clad in tight underwear, some silk, some leather, some lace and some see through, instead he drew me up to V.V's private quarters where two close friends of hers, both dancing Kine, relaxed in a hot tub. Though they were naked Kent did not stare and I began to worry.

"Kent Alan Ryan," V.V purred at him with a tight smile, "how many women's hearts have you broken now? You know I don't mind you sampling fluids from my girls, but you leave them wet with tears and that is difficult to bear. They all believe your promises."

Kent shrugged. "I'm not here for any of that, I just want somewhere private to talk with Ariadne." He yanked my arm gruffly, pulling me close to him and into V.V's scornful grey vision.

"Oh Kent," she said with a frown, "you could have anyone, you have the looks and the charms, and I really did not think she was your type."

"She's not," he protested vehemently, "it's not like that V.V, I just need to talk to her, somewhere private and safe."

"What about supper?" I queried in a tone of hurt. Had he betrayed me again? And I was growing thirsty too.

"Soon, soon," he grumbled.

V.V stepped round to her desk and hunted through the drawers before producing a silver key with a blue, numbered tag on it. "Down stairs and across the hall, all the private rooms are there and if you do feel the need to get frisky, then please consider my girls, I would rather you break another heart than lower your standards."

I forked out a tongue at her before Kent accepted the key, gave his thanks and dragged me off. We headed down through the crowds of dancers acting as waitresses, ogling men, curious women, groups there for a dare or a party and the usual collection of perverts. Kent was swift in pulling me into a corridor of blue doors, unlocking one, pushing me inside and then locking it again.

He turned to me, his face torn between anger and grief and his grey eyes wide, burning with betrayal and hate. It was not for me though, no but for another who took his heart and savaged it. Now I would hear why the poet had no more attachments to Kine or Kindred that the grave guardian did. Romero had lost his love Ellie, a love he had never even truly had, it had been too much, he would not risk that pain again but who had Kent lost?

"I will tell you this only because I think you really are too naive to understand the danger of him, not the Sabbat, him. He will use and abuse you, mould you to your purpose however he can and then abandon you when you no longer serve it. You cannot tell anyone," his face became tragic then, "I am begging you Malk please don't tell anyone this. I know sometimes you can't help babbling everyone's secrets as you do, or at least you claim you cannot help it but keep this secret, please."

I nodded. "I will keep my tongues silent on the matters of the broken heart."

His gaze widened a touch then before he nodded too. "I worked for a few months for La Croix and I admired him and I respected him and then...then well shit then I liked him, he had a way with words, he was commanding, and he seemed so noble, a self-sacrificing martyr who wanted only justice and sanity. Fuck was I naive. Only once did I question him and then his words were in my head and they never left me. He had some Kindred beheaded for attacking someone in public, they were new, their maker had abandoned them and they did not understand, I thought he was being harsh. He told me one needed to be harsh, sacrifices for the greater good, he then told me to be the same, and he ordered me to be, though subtly. Soon everything he told me to do I was doing without question, he was dominating me and I didn't even realise, his words were always in my head, they never left me."

He paused and gave a bitter laugh. "Something you understand I'm sure. He was always in my mind, I could never stop thinking about him, it was horrible and yet...well shit it was wonderful too, every time I was in his presence I was happy, I would have done anything just to get an audience with him, to please him and he knew that and it amused the hell out of him."

He paused and looked at me coldly, his eyes full of hurt. "Then one night, well he called me to his office, shit I was hopeful but I didn't dare think, well you don't need the details, he made me submit to him like a dog, scream his name, I was there all night begging him to do things I would never fucking beg anyone to do. Ah he just toyed with me, denied me and satisfied himself. I was happy though because I thought it meant we'd made a connection, that he liked me, that I mattered, shit I was so stupid. It was all just domination in the end, and a bet, I learned that a lot later when I was with the Anarchs, overheard some smug Ventrue joking about it, how they remembered when La Croix's skills of domination had been questioned, how he could never persuade the straight handsome Toreador into his bed. Well he always like a challenge and loathed anyone thinking him weak."

"So the Prince lured you with mind tricks and broke your heart," I murmured sorrowfully. "Not all Domination though, you say that and think it but there were feelings there, but Kindred mustn't love, it hurts too much but the Toreadors cannot help it."

Kent shuddered. "Whatever," he snarled, "just know it's what he is doing to you, dominating you, getting inside your head, for a whim, for a service, maybe for a dare. You are a pawn to him, nothing and no one matter to him, he will use and abuse you like he did to me, perhaps not in the same manner but he will do it nonetheless. It's all just a fucking game to him, so shake him off before he goes too far. I know it's hard, I know you're not even really aware of it no matter how many times you are told, that's all part of the domination, that you never really know it because if you did you might resist. You have to though Malk, you've got several voices in there, and they can't all be under his control."

I shook my head in confusion and smiled. "I must get the key," I stated simply.

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><p><em>Thinking of changing the rating to M but then the game is M so anyone reading fanfics for it as already heard the bad language and seen the gore so...<br>_


	25. Chapter 25

_As always thanks for the reviews, favs and alerts! To Viv-No it's not that LaCroix is gay is this fanfic it's more of a power thing, I just figure he's the kind of guy who won't resist a challenge because he won't see his reputation being tarnished, particularly if it's a question of his power over someone. Mostly he'll get someone else to do his dirty work i.e Ariadne but when it's a personal challenge i.e a bet that he can't dominate Kent, then he's too proud to ignore it, as one, he thinks he's powerful enough to do it and two, he doesn't want anyone thinking Kent is strong enough to resist and thus potentially stronger than him. He's a complicated fellow lol, I see him more of an asexual, he's just not interested one way or the other, if he has sex it's a show of power rather than lust. I figure his disinterest is why he tells Mercurio that Kindred can't or don't have it when Jeanette and Romero show you that they do, that or didn't want Mercurio trying to bang any Kindred lol._

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><p>Kent had left me back to Isaac like a good little vamp and despite my attempts to persuade him to stay with us he had slinked off into the night. So I had spent my morning in a close embrace with Isaac, normally out of character for the Baron I knew it was both a form of affection and restraint. Despite my best efforts to rise early and sneak off, his grip managed to restrain me. It would not have mattered anyway, Alex was close to the door and Romero, as I learned after I arose, was just outside it, once again a guardian to the dead.<p>

I was impatient by the time we were all up, and only a couple of my minds were willing to be fobbed off.

"Well I'm going with you," Alex announced. He was leaning against Isaac's desk with folded arms, a false image of calm I could see the worry in his gentle green eyes.

"Ah but then the mirror might shatter," I murmured, "and déjà vu would be most unwanted. Stay here kind artist and don't fear, I see a promise of fire and treasures to be unlocked. Oh and a bloody crown, undead tyrants rise and fall in the dark night, sever the strings and see the jester dance, it will be a beautiful display."

"You're insane," Ash commented flatly. The handsome dark haired Toreador was trying hard to hide the unease in his icy blue eyes; it had been difficult to sneak past the hunters.

"Dopplegangers distract only briefly," I mused, "don't leave breadcrumbs, distract them with a bigger foe Little Red."

Ash frowned over at me and retorted sardonically, "well of course I will take advice from you."

I grinned at him happily. "Good."

He rolled his eyes and looked at Isaac with displeasure. "Let her go Isaac," he urged, "she wants to go and maybe we can all finally be relieved of her presence."

"I have no presence," I protested, "I am not of the Ventrue clan!"

Alex let out a brief chuckle whilst the Baron scowled. "Ariadne I cannot let you go into the den of the Sabbat," he said seriously, "it's too dangerous."

"Well it's not like she's found it yet," Romero pointed out, "aren't we getting ahead of ourselves?"

"You know as well as I that she has her own way of finding things that she needs to," Isaac reminded him calmly. "If given the chance she will vanish from us and into their clutches and all because that pasty faced sprat has used his mind tricks on her, a coward's manoeuvre of course!"

I reached out to Isaac gently with both hands. "My Baron," I murmured soothingly, "I am Indiana without the whip, this key shall be found, Nazis vanquished and arks not opened, though I am most curious to see if Noah did eat the unicorn, perhaps the bones are still there."

He sighed and gave him a pleading golden look. "I wish I could believe that," he said quietly.

"I don't," I retorted, "I hope that Noah was not so cruel."

He grinned and shook his head sorrowfully. "You have such an interesting way with words, it's beautiful."

"No it's not," Ash was quick to quip.

"Isaac," I said seriously as I pulled back from him, "I have to go now, it hurts my mind not to, there is a painful flashing there, red unlike the usual one, its pleasant and multicoloured like the lights of a disco."

"Well then I will go with you," Isaac spoke up, surprising us all.

"No!" Ash protested, shocking himself more than the rest of us with his haste. He composed himself swiftly and scowled. "You have more important business," he pointed out gruffly, "the hunters Isaac, and the disappearances, maybe they are Sabbat related or maybe it's the Nosferatu," he spat out the clan name hatefully. "And," he glanced at me suspiciously, "well and you know."

"Ah the mirror mistress," I commented brightly, "shifting bloodsucker."

"You've been spying on us!" Ash exclaimed angrily. "I refuse to believe that you just know these things! Reported it back to his highness hmm?" he demanded with an accusing stare.

"Ash enough," Isaac scorned, "Ariadne can be trusted." He looked at me with a frown, very much displeased with my impatience. "Ming Xiao," he explained, "she rules in Chinatown, and though I am loathe to make any kind of arrangement with her I must consider the possibility that the fop in Downtown might be contemplating it. The Kuei-Jin could be powerful foes, although equally they could be treacherous allies."

"Just like you," Ash sneered at me bluntly.

"Hush now firespawn," I remarked brightly, "I shall bring you a treat from the den of the Sabbat, a peace offering."

"Oh joy, I bet it's a finger," Ash grumbled.

I turned then for the door but of course Isaac was blocking it, an unfair advantage to have such speed. "I want to go with you," he said firmly, "well not want; rather I don't want you to go at all but if you have to."

"I do," I said, "but you cannot Baron, you must play politics with the princess, a battle for territory and bloody tiaras, ah but the crown already has an owner. Barter with the eastern mistress before the jester, treachery is thick in friendship but an enemy's enemy is still a friend."

"She's right Isaac," Alex spoke up, "you don't know when Ming Xiao will arrive here, you have to be here. Let me go with you Ariadne," he pleaded.

"No Alex," Isaac protested, perhaps guessing that I could not dissuade him without barbed truths, "I need you here, the Kuei-Jin are tricky and powerful, I need as many of you on guard as possible, particularly when we have hunters and disappearances to deal with as well."

I nodded enthusiastically as Alex frowned and looked like he was going to argue. "Aid the Baron, his quest is much more important," I urged, "for me my pretty redhead."

He sighed in typical Toreador fashion, clenched his teeth and snapped, "so no one is going to go with you?" He looked at Isaac in despair. "This isn't right, it's not her fault she's being Dominated, if she finds their den and goes to it alone she won't come back."

"Now artist I can be sneaky," I assured, "they won't even know. I will use Obfuscate and welcome the legion, I promise."

He shook his head bitterly. "I won't let you go."

"You will," Isaac commented sternly, "that is an order Alex." I knew he feared the switch of minds like I, perhaps Xander was gone but perhaps his fellow Sabbat knew a trigger word, it was a risk I could not endure. I almost lost sweet Alex once; I would not see it happen again.

The door knocked behind Isaac and he stepped away from it to grant moody eyed Kent entry. "Oh good I'm not too late," he commented dryly as he gave me a wary look. "Still planning on your suicidal trip to hell?" he asked sarcastically.

I nodded with a grin. "Yes, a rollercoaster to the depths of depravity to find the key!"

He shook his head scornfully and then flickered a serious grey gaze at Isaac. "I'll go with her," he offered flatly, "Abbey is dead, what else can they harm me with now?"

"They could just harm you," Romero spoke up stonily. He had been purposely silent, caught up in his own memories still I supposed. "Or your Ghoul, you know, the redhead cowering upstairs?"

"I did wonder where she was," I mused, "thought the fey had taken her."

"She can stay here, right?" Kent looked once again to the Baron for confirmation.

Isaac nodded quickly. "Of course, but Kent, no one expects you to do this, not after all you suffered with them."

The dark haired Toreador waved away the Baron's concern. "If the idiot has to go she can't go alone."

"I could," I said stubbornly, not eager to see Kent forced to confront his fears. "Better I do that than with the plagued Toreador, help the Baron with his visitors poet," I suggested, "and let me tread the devil's road alone."

"The devil, no they're worse than devils," Kent muttered. "Malk, you're not going alone and that is final." He sounded so firm then I almost shuddered.

"Why poet?" I demanded.

"Why indeed?" Romero echoed dryly.

"You think she's as much of a pain as the rest of us," Ash reminded him, "don't be an idiot and walk to your death with her."

Kent shook his head. "Because I've been there, been caught up in the mind games and all the rest of it, it's too hard doing it alone."

"That's not the only reason," Isaac spoke up, his golden gaze was studying Kent deeply.

"The mad pony lover," I mused, "oh dear Kent, the number man said-"

"Yeah I know," he cut me off heatedly with a sharp glower, "you're not her, not even close but...well shit you do remind me of her, and I hate you for it but..."

"But you couldn't save her so now you have to save Ariadne," Isaac finished for him.

I shook my head and waved my hands outwards in protest. "No poet, I am not the mortal sibling in need of rescue, I am the Malk you hate, remember? I cause you trouble and grief; you will not dance into danger to do Sebastian's business. No favours for him, he's a Camarilla, you help me, and you betray the cause."

Kent's grey eyes filled for a moment with guilt and confusion. "Fuck you Malk," he said bluntly, "none of your mental shit, I'm going and that's it, though I'm bringing several explosives and a large fucking gun."

"Well goodbye then Kent," Ash commented pityingly, "looks like she's wormed her way into you then. The Malk will see us all destroyed one by one."

"I am no worm," I protested, "I have limbs, see!" I shook out my legs and waggled my hands before the grumpy Toreador. "The worm is in the lady by the sea, crafty worm."

"Ash enough," Isaac hissed angrily.

Ash glowered at him. "It's true Isaac!" he exclaimed passionately. "Even if you don't want to see it, and V.V agrees! She corrupts everyone she touches; she made you think she loved you before she slept with your Ghoul!" I glanced at Romero in time to see him stare at the floor awkwardly. "Then somehow she worked her way back, and now she's even won Kent over." He turned his hateful blue eyes on Kent. "You hated her Kent! She annoyed you as much as everyone else!"

"He never hated her," Alex pointed out quietly. I turned to him and saw him looking at Kent with grateful green eyes.

"No, I never hated her," Kent admitted grudgingly, "considered her a pain up the ass yes, and I still do, look Ash nothing has changed, she still annoys the fuck out of me but come on, where's the honour in letting her go to her death like this? At least if she has some help there's a chance."

"A chance for the Sabbat to have two victims instead of one," Ash argued.

"I know what they're capable of Ash," Kent said coldly with a glare, "better than you."

"Then why?" Ash practically wailed as he shook his hands in a downwards gesture.

As they argued I crept closer and closer to the door, when the Toreadors' eyes were on each other I slipped out and Ofuscated. The door was forced open almost immediately and Isaac, Alex and Kent appeared in a blur. They looked around wildly before cursing, and only Alex's green eyes seemed to linger on the spot where I was hidden. My beloved mad sire said nothing though, perhaps he did not sense me or perhaps he supported my decision to go to the Sabbat alone the latter was unlikely though.

"She can't be far!" Isaac exclaimed before he hurried up the alleyway.

Alex followed after him whilst Kent looked about suspiciously once more before hurrying on. Only when the three were gone from sight did I take the opportunity to sneak forward. I could not bear the guilt of Kent facing his nightmares again; his undead blood would no more be on my hands than Alex's. Even as I knew I had to do this mission I also knew it was a foolish one most likely to end in torture and destruction. Kent and Romero's dark tales had had more affect upon several of my psyches than they realised, it just was not enough to break the spell the Prince had me under. How ironic that the prince had cast the spell, perhaps what I needed then was a witch to free me. Too bad the only ones in Hollywood were phoney costume wearers or hags who despised my fanged kind.

I am the legion, the many voices upon the web, hear the glass rattles break upon mother's shoes. Do not cry over the carmine milk, embrace the fire and find the buttered bodies in the shed. The voices, sweet and of varying tone and gender, who could say which one spoke truth and which said the damning lie? Behind which door was the key and which held death?

Follow the trail of broken bodies and babbling witnesses. Go to where the sordid shit flows, find the bloody trail there. I contemplated who might know anything and considered that going to the dregs of Hollywood was a good start, off to the smut peddler then; perhaps he had heard some dark rumours. I reached the bin of sin that promised adult Xs inside, made me wonder what the prejudice against non-capitals was but I had no time to quibble. I went inside to a filthy looking room with racks of glossy magazines and thin cased DVDs all promising tales without plot and plenty of nudity. I was intrigued by the ones that offered costumes as well and briefly contemplated substituting my police outfit for a Girl Scout costume before I reached the balding, sweaty, brown eyed keeper of the sin. He knew of filth, but would he know of the debauchery that the Sabbat offered? Hmm, how to query without breaking some masks?"

"Evening darling," he drawled at me happily, "what can I do to you?"

"I seek a den of depravity," I announced brightly.

"Well you've come to the right place," he answered calmly with a nod.

I leaned as close to him as I dared, fearing coming into contact with something sticky and unpleasant. "Men who mould weird shapes," I murmured.

"Er...well I give you men who turn into weird shapes," he offered, "we've got the Three with the Acrobats, Sex Night at the Circus, and Double Jointed Fantasies."

I shook my head impatiently; the stench of sweat, smoke and smuggled booze drifting up from below was beginning to nauseate me. Down in the basement were many secrets, a yawning chimera, a dancer with a sword, a fat lonely man and a cheating husband. "No, I seek the beings of torture, and relic hunters, do you know of either?"

He was beginning to sweat, had yet to get the air conditioning fixed, and my question was unnerving but my ample breasts had him unwilling to turn me away. "No," he answered, "but look I've got India Jones and the Temple of Dominatrixes, does that interest you?"

I frowned, pulled back and glanced pointedly at the door. "I must seek another for information," I said mournfully, "what I seek is dark and painful, and all too public, an art of making monsters, a collection of murderers and jealous relic guards."

"Alright, alright," he protested reluctantly, "though really babe, I think you're asking for the wrong thing. You're a little weird, I dig it, but you're too cute for the dark stuff? I mean if S and M is what tempts you-"

"No thanks," I interrupted, "I have the graveyard guardian to play with. Just tell me what you know of a den of blood thirsting psychos."

"Graveyard guardian?" he queried dubiously. "Do you mean the old graveyard with the dead stars? Are you shacking up with the groundskeeper? Man, didn't think he'd score someone like you, he's always ringing here for one of my girls."

"Yes, yes," I muttered impatiently even as I planned to query Romero of his fancy for dancers. Couldn't be envious though, Kent would call me hypocrite and Isaac would turn green eyed himself. "Now, what do you know of anything strange, unusual and horrifying in the holly woods? Perhaps unnatural," I dared to suggest. Wasn't smashing masks if he spotted supernatural of his own accord, I wasn't telling him, just helping with the memory banks. Ah if only he had a pet elephant I could converse with, they had such good memories.

"Well okay but you didn't hear this from me cupcake," Flynn answered reluctantly, "there's this footage going around...a tape or tapes...it's real creepy, can't be sure if it's fake or a genuine snuff film but when I say creepy I mean creepy. Look I don't much about it, and few are willing to talk about it, seems people who get involved with it tend to vanish if you know what I mean."

"Ah into the well with the long haired girl!" I guessed.

"Um...no wrong movie, I think. Look, the company handing out is called Deathmask Productions, personally I've never heard of them and I couldn't tell you if they're distributing the thing or not. Anyway, I've heard...well there are weird creatures of this film, they look real but they don't look natural and they chase this girl and the thing is, well where they chase her... A customer of mine, well until he chose that Vesuvius dive over this much cheaper place, he said he'd watched it and that the place in the video looks like old house up on the hill. He can't be sure like, never seen the inside but the outside was recognisable enough, he says the garden the girl ran through was a dead ringer."

"Speak quicker smut pedlar," I urged, with just a hint of crimson force to my words, "tell me of the house on the hill." Ah too many bad things were wont to happen on big houses on hills, never much going wrong in apartments was there? Strange things to be certain, I'd seen a llama wandering into one, but not necessarily wrong.

"The house on King's Way," he explained as his eyes glazed over and he trembled just a little, "it's big, used to belong to some hotshot celebrity, been abandoned now for years, private and big, you can't miss it."

I nodded enthusiastically. "Well it will be a good place to start, many thanks sweaty man of sin."

He gave me a dazed smile. I turned and headed back out into Hollywood's glittering streets of false promises, and starting skipping to where I knew a familiar yellow cab would be waiting. It was alone, away from the other taxis waiting near clubs for patrons, discreetly parked close to dear Slater's shop and empty, all ready just for me. I bounced up the window and the shady eyed driver queried, "where to?"

"On to the crowned master's way," I commanded before I hopped into the backseat. I grinned nervously when I caught him glimpsing at me in the mirror. Mad, human shaping Sabbat? No problem. A cabbie with sunglasses? Horrifying.

As we pulled out of the main district I thought I saw a worried Kent darting past, he paused and looked up as the taxi drove past but I did not think he spotted me. I did not risk looking back but instead hunched down and sank my head forward and between my knees. Ostrich tactic, if I couldn't see him he couldn't see me.


	26. Chapter 26

King's Way, the house was a grand building, big enough to house ten people and their servants I guessed though I suspected it had belonged to much fewer. I had to struggle over a large iron fence to gain entry to the property and earned several scratches for my pains. The windows were foiled up instead of boarded up, ah celebrities, always so eccentric. I headed up the small set of cement steps to the white double doors, split into numerous glass panes. Locked of course with foil and tape behind them, I could try breaking through but I decided a nice little wander first would be wise and potentially interesting.

The pool was disappointingly empty, rust and dead leaves now, it would probably never be used; even when the rain fell no animals would stray into it. Only flies came here, buzzing by the blood and flesh, I could hear them through the walls. I did a perimeter of the lower grounds of the house before scaling up the ivy leaves like the rebellious student returning from a date. Upstairs I found a sliding door ever so slightly ajar, an invite or a mistake? A welcome to the bloody tea party Alice, change places and be sure not to lose your head. I pushed it open quietly, stepped in and almost salivated at the stench of blood within.

Some of the flesh, blood and bones were quite fresh; I was even certain I could still hear hearts beating and lungs breathing, though faintly, but some were sticky and spoiled, blackening under the flickering, stained lights. I had mere seconds to realise I was not alone before a wooden door to my left shattered and an abomination sprang through with a chattering snarl.

I jumped back and tugged out my sword, ah how glad I was that the undead poet had bought me such a fine weapon! I swung outwards at the yapping, bald beast and sliced across its beady, red eyes. Must be quicker! It moved swift on its two overgrown hands like a spider, dodging my next blow before slicing at my lower right leg with its claws.

"Bad beastie!" I scolded. "See the vision of death!"

It gave a low groan and staggered slightly in a daze before I struck out, turning it into glittering embers and ash. I tutted scornfully before looking about the room, it certainly took modern art to the next level. There were two chairs made of bone and stretched and beaten flesh, a bloodstained bed of wood, bone, twisted decorations of flesh and worst of all, duck patterned bed sheets. I recoiled from them and hastened to the door, this was not the hiding place of the key.

The walls groaned as I scarpered down a staircase of flies, wood, and webs of thinned flesh encased in twisted roots of bone that grew down from the ceiling. This was indeed a building of snuff, how well suited for seedy Hollywood. I sniffed the air but there was no odour of ancient relics. Close though, keep going, playing hide and seek with the gingerbread men, the treasure is well hidden with the frog tongues.

The kitchen's walls had been stained pink with dribbles of black; only the fridge and the lights were turned on, humming in tune with the flies. The microwave was missing its door and the oven was dented and the wall above it burnt black. I crept up to the fridge and opened it suspiciously, it was so often the chamber of coin but alas it was empty. Another snarl and I was ambushed again, this time by two of the large headed beasts. When was I going to learn to use Auspex more? One jumped at me from behind, pushing me forwards as its friend leaped from the right. I hit the ground, struck upwards with my right elbow to prevent a burrowing of teeth in my skull, rolled to the right and stood up. I showed them visions of madness, bats with bulbs for eyes, singing dolls with pumpkin heads and the terrible burning of the sun. I drove them to berserk, had them looking at each other treacherously before I cut them down. Sink the blade down as if through butter, beautiful, soft, bloody butter and cut, cut. Chop up even slices now, must be fair. They turned into embers and ash too soon, their horrid forms obliterated with their illegal lives.

Children of the Tzimisce, it meant the Tzimisce had to be here, and thus the Sabbat and surely the key. Was this merely a Sabbat den or the Sabbat den? Well they weren't exactly subtle so I supposed they couldn't go unnoticed if there were too many of them. I crouched low and gave into Ofuscate as I crept down another flight of stairs. Past more blood and rot, it was tempting and nauseating at the same time. I was growing thirsty, my disciplines had worn me down, I needed to replenish. I licked my lips and continued on, find the key, take it and burn everything. So easy, too easy. Beware, the walls are murmuring, hear the cries of agony? Yes I did, very real cries of torture, and then I saw. Romero and Kent's memories, now a reality for other poor Kine and Kindred alike. The basement was a torture chamber, a laboratory and a treasure vault all in one. An unobtrusive wooden box against the wall, it had a padlock, and a bloodstained sheet to hide under but I was not fooled.

Creep forward them, past the wailing victims, don't get distracted, his highness will not tolerate distractions. Keep going, I could hear the key whispering to me, almost inaudible over the screams and groans, almost but not quite. Always want to feel gratitude, always seeking praise and approval, never got it from mummy and daddy, didn't get it from the reluctant rebel either. A pat on the head, a star and trust. Yes, that fragile, beautiful thing. There was a voice on the web, loud, clanging and desperate, it knew the essence on the key, knew the secret behind the relic. It shrieked, it missed the others; it was so alone without them, even on the crowded web.

"I see strange footprints of blood."

Those words were my late clue to my folly; my boots had stepped into a puddle and left a telltale sign. I had no time to react, there were too many of them, forming a circle about me. Their leader, prominent in red, with an oblong grey head and a mouth so eager to ask for my leader or his spaceship, struck out with wave of blood from his palm. I was soaked and thus revealed. I grinned, swung out with my sword and sent out all the madness I could. They responded with more blood, claws, fangs, and some more misshapen minions to bite and beat at me. Strong as I was I was only the legion in mind; they were the legion in reality. The many monsters of the night, a horrid dream that would not end.

It took a while before I was overcome but eventually I staggered down from pain and exhaustion and they subdued me then, binding me down to a metal table with strong cuffs of metal.

"Now," their leader addressed me in a voice that sounded oddly familiar, "you were sneaking so I can assume you didn't want a confrontation but what did you want? Maybe you're here by accident but then my minions should have put you off and you are armed. A Malkavian mind but even in your kind's madness there is a purpose."

I grinned up at his misshapen head and queried, "do you hide an egg in your skull?" For a beast out of one's nightmares he was surprisingly well dressed with a long, heavy, red coat almost like a posh nightgown, a white shirt and a red cravat. Well I suppose it was good to wear red when one might risk bloodstains on one's clothes.

"Ah squirming larva of the mad ones, tell me child, are you scared? Do I frighten you?" he demanded as his orange eyes flared down at me.

"Oh no," I assured him, "I try not to judge people on their exteriors, but then I guess we have that in common." I glanced about at the victims and corpses around me, straining my neck as I did. The key was so tantalising close, damn you blood prints, I was betrayed by own boots! Well I would burn them later for the treachery.

He laughed appreciatively. "I'm certain we will make good use of your exteriors and interiors," he said. "Now tell me child of Malkav, why are you here?"

"A tape," I lied happily. "A stereotypical horror in a monster house, naturally with a hysterical female lead. I'd grade it D, don't think it will become a cult hit but fret not."

He laughed again. "Oh yes, the "tape". Merely a test. So the tape drove you to find me then."

I nodded eagerly. "Indeed, why did you make your horror? Was it to frighten Kine under the bedsheets?"

"No, it was not intended to fall into mortal hands," he answered swiftly, "rather to gouge out the eyes of the Camarilla. The sewers are clogged with my creations; I'll kill or drive the Nosfertau from their pestilent nest. Without the sewer rats to guide them, the Camarilla will be blind to the Sabbat's designs."

"Hmm," I looked up at him curiously, "just one question then, do you expect me to talk?" I queried. "Where's the laser beam huh and your cute white kitty?"

"I think you have been in Hollywood too long," he answered with a smidgen of mockery in his voice, "no matter. I do not think we will use your mind, it would be too tricky to control, but your body and your gifts, yes they could be useful. I think we will give you the head of one of the disgusting Kine, then some wolf traits, wolves are certainly strong, I would even offer you werewolf if we had one."

"No thanks, I like my parts were they are, it's my minds that I allow to scatter and shift," I answered perkily.

"Ah but you can be one of my blessed creatures, I coax bone, weave flesh, and lace sinew tight until it strains to lash out!"

"You torture and mutilate people, tomato, tomatoe," I retorted bluntly, a little tired now with his bragging.

"I am culling," he boasted, "the unwanted are my victims, Kine and Kindred, they are of as little consequence to authority as they are to me. Illegals, mongrels, half bloods, and caitiff; the bane of society, criminals, the unwanted and unmissed."

"Well I guess you don't want me then," I suggested, "because I will be missed, by the Baron and the Prince."

He chortled dryly. "The Baron and the Prince? What a novel idea that they would like the same Kindred for all their bitter quarrel, doubtful that you would be so important to either of them. No, I imagine that is probably a lie or a delusion of your many minds. Enough, I will reshape you into something useful, an engine of Cainite fury!"

So the Tzimisce had no eyes on the Anarchs or Camarilla then, well it is hard to spy on someone when you're busy kidnapping and mutilating Kine and Kindred, blowing up buildings, slaughtering on the streets and generally doing everything you can to say 'Lookez Over Here I Is A Monster!'

I felt then what I suspected Romero had briefly tasted, a shifting of my innards, my blood boiling, burning me from within, my bones bending, starting to break and push against my skin, twisting and turning it in an unnatural fashion.

Pain. There are many kinds of pain in the world- long, short, sharp, dull, physical, mental, burning, cold, bloody, bruising, bearable, unbearable and then this. It was the worst I had known, at least the worst my minds remembered. It was fire, it was ice, it was long and sharp in places, slow and stiff in others. None of my minds could deal with it, in a panic they scattered about my brain, losing focus, trying to deaden themselves to escape the pain. The Sabbat were not quick though, ah had the crypt keeper not warned me? The Sabbat wanted you to suffer, had the poet not explained that?

Oh the Prince would be so disappointed with me, a failure, not worth trust, not worth responsibilities, no news for Isaac to redeem the hurts my presence had caused him, no chance to finally stand out as less of a pest and more of a brave Kindred worthy to be an ally. I was brave, I was tough, I was worth having, wasn't I? Or were Nines, V.V and Ash right? Seemed all the Anarchs loathed me, so then to the Camarilla with success. Oh I couldn't keep the plot straight anymore, not with this pain distracting me. Who was friend and who was foe? Who was wrong and who was right?

Get the key, a simple goal. Get the key, give it to LaCroix, be rewarded, stay for information, find the knowledge of the relic with Beckett, yes, yes, a clear goal. Must find the knowledge, a storm ahead, danger, too many spoils for one Kindred to claim, too much advantage to be gained.

I heard a snarl and saw limbs of light snapping through the air. My cuffs were wrenched off and I met the amber eyes of a wolfman, now this was a beast whose company I would welcome. "Sarah!" he growled before whirling to claw at the furious Tzimisce.

I had to help, had to move, oh how handy celerity would be, well dementation instead then. I sat up, my vision was blurred, my body felt lopsided and my limbs refused to cooperate. My skull seemed misshapen, I reached up my right hand and found my fingers longer and grey, the nails sharpened like claws. I touched at my skull tentatively with the hand and felt a protruding lump beneath my hair on the right side of my brow, and my eye with a large, bloody welt down it. My skull was cracked like a jigsaw!

Claws slashing from the right drew me back into focus! An uneven battle between four Tzimisce, three Gangrel, six abominations and myself. The Gangrel who would be my rescuer was caught between fighting their leader and another Gangrel whilst two abominations snarled and worried at his large feet. There was no time to be caught up in reflection of this rescuer; I had to find some strength and fight! I cast out hysteria and hallucinations, and seized my chance to spring for my discarded sword. I snatched it with my left, finding my claws too large and clumsy, and swung quickly and deeply into the torso of a screeching head, or was it simply just a head without a torso? Vile creatures, back to Hades with them then! Another swing and it was ash but I had no time to savour victory, a Tzimisce was coming at me. I swung at her, at least I thought it was her, but she dodged. Suddenly there were bats flying at me, then in me, burrowing through my ruined flesh and sucking out my blood. Dizzy, I stumbled as they returned the blood to their master. I felt teeth sink into my neck as I raised my left hand to send the female Tzimisce berserk.

Out of the corner of my left eye I saw the leader, vanishing into blood pools only to reappear at a different point in the room. Quite a neat trick I wondered dumbly if his body was but an illusion of blood. It made him quick and kept him mostly safe from Rob's claws. Poor Rob, came here to escape the Sabbat and had somehow ended up straight in with them. Did I draw everyone to trouble? Was I such a wicked magnet?

I kicked back at my Gangrel attacker, turned and slashed his face with my sword. Rob yelled, or was it howled? I turned and moved, a spectral wolf tried to pull me back by my shins but I broke free. Blood soaked me; bits of bone jagged into me and then came the swarm of insects. The buzzing was my only warning, I had seconds before the devoured me and I lost my chance to help Rob. Sarah's brother, my brother, Rob Grey, the Southland Slasher, multi-identities just like me, confused just like me and so loyal too it seemed. Had to save him. The key! Fuck the key!

I screamed as I burrowed the sword up to its hilt in the Tzimisce's back before he ripped Rob's wolfish head from his furry body. He tensed up with a hiss of pain but I knew it was not enough. This naughty Kindred had played Frankenstein for too long, he had evolved beyond basic flesh wounds. "Run Rob," I said as I felt my hands go slick with blood as the insects came in for the kill.

My vision turned black as my ears were clogged with buzzing. Some of the voices screamed, others hummed and along the web one shrill voice bellowed in words too old and strange for me to understand. So close to Kindred, so close to the familiar and almost forgotten, so alone for so long, it made one mad. Tiny teeth were gnawing at my flesh, trying to reach the bone, I was too gone to hurt though, my mind was nothing but red stars and strobe lights of the brightest purple. I hungered desperately for the blood, only final taste before I turned to embers, just one last lick to ease the passing. Was Rob safe? Would Sebastian forgive me? Would he care or consider me a replaceable failure just like Kent? Most importantly, would Isaac forgive me for deserting him so finally?

"Well fuck."

I smiled at the words through the buzzing; one could always trust the rebellious Toreador to find the right thing to say. At that point the thirst consumed me and everything became red. I could hear pulses pounding, most faint and failing but a few still beat with eagerness. I moved through the redness to silence them, and delighted when I found wounds open and waiting for me. Some blood tasted bitter, some was thick like oil but eventually I found some unpoisoned, fresh and warm. I gnawed to get at it, burrowing my head like a starved crocodile into a zebra's stomach. When I found a heart I crunched down on it eagerly, and only voice quietly protested in my minds as the flesh squelched and pissed out blood into my mouth.

I felt cold hands upon me and fought against them, their grasp turned tight and I began to kick. "Don't start Malk; let's just get the fuck out of here."

"Rob," I mumbled, "the key, the bodies, the voices screaming."

"Rob's fine, fuck the key and fuck the bodies and the voices too."

I could hear groans and pleas all around us, victims still half-existing, but my vision was still too tinged in red to see their state. I continued to fight against Kent; there was a new tingling in the air, it made the clanging voice scream down the web again. He made my skull hurt, I had to get the key, and then he would be silenced. "The key to the box is in the box, the box to the key," I ranted as I strained against Kent's grasp. "Under the bloodied bedsheet, tucked up without a night time story, forgotten for the mutilations. No use without the box, they don't need it, I need it."

Kent gave me a rough shake before releasing me. "Where's the box?" he demanded, his voice heightened with nerves. "Damnit, where?"

"What's the delay?" Was that dearest firespawn's voice? Ah but he would never come unless...

I whirled about; confused over priorities I let instinct guide me to another bleeding body. Yes, feed and recover first, then untangle the madness in this house. Were we safe? Could anyone really be safe in this den? I could still hear the buzzing of thirsting, bloated flies and the terrible groans and moans for mercy, release and death.

"I've got the box, course it's sealed but we'll open it later," Kent said gruffly.

I saw him at last, unkempt for a Toreador he could not hide his fear, his grey eyes rolled about wildly and his form was tense. In his hands he held a box that tingled madly; yes there was a treasure within, a key to secrets, answers, the forbidden, the forgotten and a terrible reckoning. I reached for it but the poet used his speed to evade me. "Outside now," he commanded firmly.

I turned to obey and saw Ash hurrying up the stairs in a blur. "Where is the Baron?" I queried. "Where is Rob? The poet did not come along," I murmured. I was still sore and when I started to walk I found my movements awkward, my left leg felt swollen and when I glanced down I found it disjointed, the knee swollen, bruised and bent too much to the left. I hobbled upwards, wincing and marvelling as my right hand's claws sank through the fragile banister. I considered raking swirly shapes but I had to prioritise, yes get my many thoughts in order. My right eye was still a little out of focus; it seemed sunken, making my sight through it somewhat smaller and further away. Was I spying through Alice's looking glass now? Was that it? This was but a darker reflection of things.

It took an age for me to make it upstairs and out of the house of horrors, and naturally Kent grumbled and cursed the whole way. When I escaped it was not to a greeting party of rescuers though, just dearest Rob who was licking a bloodied left arm. He glanced up at us with mistrustful grey eyes, which widened when they spied me. "What the hell did they do to you?" he wondered.

"My head is fuzzy," I complained, "and burning. I have the key though," I looked back at Kent sulkily, "well almost. Let me have the key, then rest. Yes, with the Baron."

Kent, to my annoyance, held out the box to Rob instead. "You carry this," he ordered, "and I'll carry her."

Rob looked at the box and then back up to Kent with an unimpressed glower. "What is that and where do you plan on going? I thought this place was safe," he grumbled.

"It is unless you chose to wander into a Sabbat den," Kent answered with a pointed look my way. "Look just take the box and follow me, we're not safe here."

Rob obeyed and before I could protest or snatch the box, Kent seized me up with both hands and started carrying me sideways in his arms, though his grip felt stiff and thick with reluctance. "Don't you dare struggle," he warned me, "you're weak, tired, and injured, and I'm pissed and sore, it's not a good combination."

"Was the Baron here?" I queried. "Firespawn would not come willingly and there were so many foes in the dungeon. We did not win the boss battle though, he left, most disappointing."

"Though it's pointless saying, you're nuts," Kent answered me.

"And you're evasive," I snapped back.

We did not have far to travel, over the gate, down the hill to the main road and there a yellow cab was waiting. "How is the yellow carriage always so handy?" I pondered as Kent fumbled for the door and bundled me into the backseat.

"The Golden Age jewellers," Kent requested as Rob climbed in and shut the door.

"Certainly."

Same cabbie with those suspicious shades and odd, purplish aura, did he have numerous twins or clones? Had his taxi the gift of celerity? Maybe all just a clever disguise, a joke amongst all taxi men, or a conspiracy. Our drive was silent and swift, during it my skull continued to pound, my knee shifted of its own accord beneath the flesh and my right eye ached and blurred. I felt a burning down my face, across my chest and along my back; there were wounds there, gouges that had yet to begin healing.

"Dead Prometheus reshaped the clay," I murmured as the taxi stopped.

Kent paid hastily and bustled me out, down an alleyway and up to the familiar glittering paned, wooden door. He reached past me to the open door and when it was open I hurried in. My leg would not co-operate though, and I wondered if one of my minds had drifted down to nest in the deformed limb. "Obey," I snapped down at it as I stumbled forward.

"Didn't you say it was her personality that you loved?" That was Romero's dry voice.

"No one could love that," Ash sneered.

"I do," I heard my Baron groan, "but it was too hard looking at... It was not her, a disfigured monster; it could not have any kind of beauty about it."

"Well now I knew you guys were shallow," Romero grumbled with an angry edge to his voice, "but really Isaac, think about who you're talking about."

"You didn't see her," Ash snapped, "or it rather, the ugliest thing I've ever seen. It would burn through your mortal mind."

"Really?" Romero retorted sardonically.

Ah I had to be mishearing, acoustics tampered by the walls or perhaps the mischievous fey were simply making me hear bad words. I made for the doors to the living room that held the Baron and felt Kent restraining me once more. "Malk," he began awkwardly, "look, er..."

"He's not lying Romero," Isaac answered. "She was so lovely too, my sweet, beautiful Ariadne but that was not her we saved, it couldn't have been. No, just another abomination, a monstrous mistake of the Sabbat's," his voice almost broke and he paused, perhaps to compose himself. "Oh I failed her; I should have restrained her better, kept her from that place, now she's gone."

"She's not gone," that was gentle Alex's voice, "you saved her didn't you?"

"No, merely her ruined remains," Isaac answered sorrowfully.

I felt myself trembling, this was a joke, a prank of the fey's, but not truth surely. I looked to Kent and spied the revulsion in his grey eyes as he purposely avoided looking back at me. "Tell me Toreador; is beauty in the eye of the beholder?" I demanded. "Or is there only a beast there?"

"They mutilated you," Kent answered softly, "you can't see it and you won't, the curse of Kindred, no soul means no reflection. It's a blessing now for you I suppose but we can still see what they've done."

"And what have they done?" I queried calmly. "An unwanted facelift? Surgery gone too far?"

"Won't it heal?" Rob questioned gruffly.

Kent gave a human sigh and shrugged uneasily. "I don't know, it's not an injury, it's an alteration."

"What?" Rob demanded. "But..."

"Am I to go to the sewers?" I queried bitingly. "Shall I conceal myself behind a mask?" My voice grew shriller. "Maybe lure a princess with a rose to break the curse? Is it too much for the Toreadors now? First my minds cause trouble, now my face; everything is a problem for the rebels!"

"Ariadne," I heard Alex address me gently as he reached for me. I wanted to recoil but even a false Toreador's grasp was better than none at all. He was behind me though, unable to see my disfiguration, probably a deliberate choice on his part.

"Isaac?" I croaked. "I'm still me, all the mes." I shrugged off Alex and turned, looking for Isaac. The living room doors were open but I could only see a disgusted Ash and sympathetic Romero. Alex let out a gasp of horror as he glimpsed me but I ignored him and walked to the living room. When I stumbled and fell the expected cold embrace of the Baron did not come. I looked to him with hate but his gold eyes would not meet mine. In them I saw tears glisten and it made dampness come to my own stare. "I got the key," I croaked, "I survived them, please reward me for that. Please be relieved that I'm still here and not embers."

"I would rather you had not survived than you were suffering so," Isaac answered sombrely.

"Isaac," Romero snapped, "you're being ridiculous. Let go of your Toreador prejudices, this is still the crazy vampire that you love."

"Maybe it was never love," Ash commented rudely, "just a delusion of it."

"No," Isaac spoke up harshly, "don't say that. I did love her; I still do but this..." He shook his head. "I cannot even look at you Ariadne, it's too much for me, it pains me too deeply to see what you have become."

"Well it pains me to feel it," I snapped back childishly as I stood at last. "Maybe I did pick the wrong leader, at least Sebastian isn't shallow, he works with Nosferatu! Am I as ugly as the sewer dwellers? Maybe even the prince won't have me, though for his key I think he will! You all dismiss and mistrust me, now another excuse, another reason to cast me out!"

"Don't speak so hastily," Alex cautioned me, "you know your loyalties are to the Anarchs. Do not go to that arsehole because of this."

"He's right," Kent argued, though even he could not quite look at me, "the Prince is a snake, don't forget that Malk. Look, this...this is sudden and difficult to deal with, for all of us. Let's just take some time, we all need to feed and rest."

"And where should I rest?" I demanded. "In the sewers? In the zoo?" I looked at Isaac again. "May I assume your coffin closed to me?"

"I...What has he done to you?" Isaac lamented. "To us? The Sabbat poison everything, no one is ever truly saved from their clutches, we should have protected you better."

"Look I don't what's going on," Rob spoke up angrily, "except that you are being assholes to my sister. Let's just get out of here Sarah, you said to come here and I did but I don't think this place is safe for either of us."

"Sister?" Alex remarked in surprise.

"You can both stay in my shack," Romero offered. "I'll let you have the keys." He glanced at the Baron, half-daring him to protest and half-fearful that he would.

Isaac frowned but said nothing. I was cast out, too ugly now for the vain Toreadors, all that was between us forgotten over appearances. The way I made Isaac smile, my unique minds, my pretty thoughts, my quirky remarks that eased his stress, my open, easygoing way with him that no one else had, all forgotten because his nature drove him to loathe me now. "The Toreadors lose many ugly allies," I commented bitterly, "perhaps it will be worth it when they still look beautiful as they are destroyed."

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><p><em>Happy Halloween! Andrei is such an ass :-) Also, I don't know if Kindred officially don't have reflections but in this fanfic they don't, seems like the ultimate punishment for Toreadors to never see themselves. I guess I'm trying to delve deeper into the traits of the Kindred, I imagine no matter how sweet you are to a Toreador if you still have a Nossie's face they don't wanna know.<em>


	27. Chapter 27

_Thank you for all the lovely reviews! Topgallant, I'm so glad you like Rob, I find him hard to write but I do enjoy his character. Glad you liked the new twist with Ariadne as well. Guest I've got a new job so I'm afraid after this chapter you probably will have to wait for the next one but I promise I shall do my best to keep the updates as regular as possible. Also, yeah Isaac can be a prick lol, he's a Toreador at heart unfortunately so he just couldn't help his rejection._

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><p>"Are you serious? It's all she has to show for this, her reward for what she suffered and you want to take it from her?"<p>

I awoke to Romero's deadpan voice and sat up slowly. Had it all been a dream? I looked to my right hand and saw the Gangrel like claw, my right eye's vision was still distorted and as I stood I felt my left knee tremble and sink slightly. I wasn't in Kansas anymore then, time to find the wizard for some new body parts.

"She's going to give it to him," that was the irate tones of the poet.

"Yes, she always was," Romero answered sardonically.

I saw Rob close to the stairs, looking up at the sealed trapdoor and scowling as he listened in. I moved towards him and he immediately looked over with cautious grey eyes. His gaze slipped pointedly to my misshapen knee before looking back up to me. I knew what the Gangrel side of him thought; that I was weak, that I was better left to die otherwise I would drag him down too.

"Yes but to gain information for our benefit, do you think she'll do that now?" Kent demanded.

"Do you think she should?" Romero queried calmly.

"Careful now don't forget whose Ghoul you are just because you fucked her a few times," Kent snapped warningly.

Rob's eyes turned red and his claws expanded as he moved suddenly and quickly as Romero gave his biting retort. "You're always so elegant for a Toreador."

I hurried after Rob as he exploded up through the trapdoor, evidently considering opening it too much of a bother and pounced upon Kent with a snarl. The handsome Toreador had expected the attack however and dodged backwards with his handy Celerity. I watched Kent glimpse at me quickly before looking away, barely suppressing a shudder of disgust.

"That is my younger sister you are talking about," Rob snapped hatefully.

Kent sighed and folded his arms as he gave Rob a cool look. "She's not really," he replied calmly, "her name is Ariadne now, and who do you think has been minding her in your absence hmm?"

"Are you here for the key poet?" I queried calmly as I stared at him, daring him to meet my gaze but he couldn't.

"Well yes," he grumbled to Rob, "it's business you know, I shouldn't have let you leave with it." His last words were for Rob; he had carried it off in its box after all, and then given it to me to open before we had gone to slumber. It was close against my chest now in the pocket of a blue shirt nestling beside a yo-yo and a small spinning top that flashed and hummed when it spun.

"Did he send you?" I demanded.

"No, actually," he paused awkwardly and frowned, "he wants you to have it."

"A parting gift," I guessed. "I suppose I will no more be a movie star than the golden one," I mused, "ah well I still must find the gryphon's nest in Downtown and guess the Sheriff's name, hmm perhaps he is Rumpelstiltskin!"

I felt Rob giving me an odd look and wondered if he would follow me to Downtown, I was not Sarah after all; she was just another voice in my head, one of the few named ones.

"Look Malk, I know you're hurting even if you're going to pretend otherwise and act mad, and I know this is probably the last thing you need but we can't trust you with that key," Kent spoke to the floor.

"The floor is not a Malkavian," I commented coolly, "unless it hides it well. You never could trust me, could you?" I demanded as I glowered at Kent. "It was always your intention to take it because you don't want the Prince to have what was in the tomb!"

"Tomb?" Kent echoed suspiciously, again to the floor.

"Ah you're always a turncoat, you're the untrustworthy one! We built sandcastles!" I shrieked at him angrily. "You switch sides like a dice, first one number then another, first the Camarilla, then the Anarchs, never really the Malkavian though."

"It's not like that," Kent protested. "I did trust you Malk and I still do, I just think anger is going to cloud your judgement and that you're going to something stupid, something which can be prevented by you giving me the key."

"It is like that," I snarled, "did you secretly intend me to go to the mad, bloody tea party despite your attempts to stop me? Was it all a ruse, a cover? Did the number man will it? Is it him you'll do everything for now? He told you to spy on me again, Malk's on a mission for the Prince, chase her Commander Ryan, maybe the Baron intended to take the key too. The Anarchs are more twisted than the thorns about the sleeping beauty, there are many snakes in the apple tree."

"Firstly, I would never want anyone to go into a Sabbat den, not after what I suffered! Secondly, the Baron wants you to have the key," Kent argued, "and I would let you keep it too except you're angry now and bitter, because you hate that we are what we are and since it's something we cannot change, well why should you stay allied to us? Even though we still care, Isaac loves you but he is a Toreador." He sighed, gave me an uneasy glance and then turned his grim grey gaze onto a wall. "There is no reason for you to tell us what the Prince is up to, and there is no reason for you not to side with him except for self-perseverance, maybe you have at least learned not to trust him."

"He says he will pay me, he pays me, you say you won't betray me but you do, who is Pinocchio, Kent? I think he is Geppetto, and though your strings are severed your nose still grows."

Romero let out a small snicker whilst Rob looked at me wide eyed with his mouth slightly parted. Kent frowned and shook his head as he looked at me, though his grey eyes still would not meet my emerald stare. "Just give me the key Malk."

"I think you're alone soldier," I mocked him, "but I have claws." I raised my right hand and waggled my digits, grinning when he recoiled in displeasure. "You and the Baron, traitors both! I went to the death den for the jester but for the Baron too," I reached up with my claw and pawed at my ruined eye causing fresh blood marks to leak. "I hurt for the Baron, for the key, I was deformed so I could learn the Prince's desires but now I will not share. For the pain Isaac caused me I should do more." I lowered my hand and turned on Romero causing him to look back warily and grip his shotgun a little tighter. "I should rip his Ghoul to shreds, that will make him burn inside like I do."

"So now I'm just his Ghoul?" Romero retorted moodily with an offended olive gaze.

My gaze softened and I shook my head. "Not the crypt keeper," I murmured, "you are the only one who stays on my side. Isaac loved me but only when the squabbling children didn't hiss lies in his ears." I looked back at Kent who adamantly avoided my altered stare. "Only when the loyal troops didn't speak of mistrust and disgust was I loved. All my loyalties and deeds are forgotten now because I don't look pretty." I turned back to Romero with a wounded look. "Is the crypt keeper disgusted too? His tongue sides with me but do his eyes?"

"Riddles again, always fun with you crazy cat," Romero retorted kindly. "You're still a striking piece of ass if that's what you're asking."

I smiled even as Rob let out a very feral growl that had Romero's grip on his gun tightening even more.

Romero frowned a little. "Unfortunately the Baron...well..."

"He wants me gone and forgotten," I realised, "I am forbidden from all the beds of Hollywood." I scowled again. "Well he has other Ghouls to slaughter, if I must hurt so must he."

"Malk don't make threats, please," Kent said pleadingly. "You know we can't ignore them."

"Well actually I don't like the other guy," Romero commented brightly earning a glower from Kent. "He wears sunglasses even when it's night time, he's a prick."

I smiled faintly at this. "I meant to steal them for my collection," I mused, "now I will, the Baron saying no doesn't matter. But it won't be tonight, fear not poet. You have delayed me long enough, the Prince must have the key and the relic master must open the lock. I will no longer be your fool; don't think to join my quest under false pretences again."

"Ariadne look I...like you, there I said it, and I haven't gone running to Nines about the key and I won't, I promise. He will learn no more than he already knows about the matter, and you might want to remember that it was you who informed him you were going after it in the first place. This isn't about my trust in you, it's him, alright, that asshole cannot have the key, I don't know what it's for but if Beckett's involved, well it must be old and it's potentially powerful and I daresay it's not good."

For all his words Kent still kept his distance, yes, I was like the plague ridden bell ringer, must be avoided. "I got my body deformed for this!" I shrieked at him furiously. "I lost Isaac! I lost the Toreadors! I lost my home! You won't take it from me! YOU WON'T!" I felt tears prick at my eyes to my shame and heard Rob let out another growl. "I hurt for this, I earned it, feeble prize, but I will have it."

"Just let her have it," Romero spoke up in an annoyed tone, "if Isaac is alright with it you should be too. You're still being a good little soldier, obeying the Baron."

"That's not the point," Kent snarled quietly. "Ah shit, I don't want to upset you kid, I really don't, but I don't think you're seeing the bigger picture here. What if that key unlocks something that can turn the tables? Something that might lead to the Anarchs being wiped out, to Isaac being wiped out?"

"Good," I retorted childishly as pus seeped out of my right eye with a salty tear. "I suffered for this key, it's mine to give to the Prince and I will, I have to. Stop delaying me, it makes my head burn!"

"Alright fine," Kent snarled as he folded his arms, "but on your head be it. And just who are you going to go to Downtown with anyway?"

"Me," Rob answered quickly.

"Yeah that's a great idea, you go into the thick of the Camarilla Southland Slasher," Kent sneered.

"They don't know that's me," Rob argued in a snarl.

I looked at him painfully as I realised Kent was right. The masked men were everywhere, always watching, always listening and always reporting, and with my appearance what it was, well all eyes would be on us even as they tried to avoid my gross disfigurement. "They will figure it out," Kent argued.

"He's right," I agreed quietly.

Rob looked at me in surprise and shook his head. "Sarah I'm tough okay and they don't know, they don't. Look I have lost enough people, I won't lose you too, you're injured, and they will pick you off."

"Like a crippled lamb," I mused, "a golden lamb though while I have the key, and the prince will protect his golden fleece." I smiled at Rob reassuringly. "Downtown is his territory, I will be safe there, he will protect me." I glowered at Kent daring him to argue and though he tensed and scowled he held his tongue for a change.

"Sarah," Rob protested, "you're my little sister-"

"No Rob," I cut him off, "I am Ariadne now and I'm tough too. Tis only flesh wounds I have, the minds are still working. You are safest here, unless the Baron finds you ugly too," I added bitterly.

"Isaac said Rob has his protection," Kent spoke up, "he said it was the least he could do."

I bowed my head sorrowfully. "Then I will go to Downtown alone, me, myselves and us." I tried to smile but the tears were coming faster and my right eye was now clogged with pus. "Goodbye." I started to walk forward, if I just left now it would be alright, but my left leg betrayed me once more and I fell before Kent's expensive, polished, black shoes. I sensed him reach for me but then he hesitated and pulled back, too disgusted to risk touching my spoiled flesh.

"Well you're an asshole," Romero grumbled. I heard him approach to help but then he seemed to freeze and I turned to see him wince a little. "Ah shit," he cursed inelegantly. "Fucking blood bonds."

I really was alone. I stood before Rob could offer aid and forced myself to smile brightly at him, though it caused my jaw to ache. "Stay here Rob, please," I begged.

"Well where and when will I see you again?" he demanded.

"I'll come back," I lied, "after the key is given and the relic is found."

"You'll come back?" he queried doubtfully as he scrutinised me with his blue-grey stare. "To this place with these assholes?"

"I'm not being an asshole," Romero grumbled in annoyance, earning a red eyed glower from the Gangrel. "Well I'm not," the crypt keeper pointed out as he met the glower.

"For you Rob," I said softly, "I'll come back for you. Just have a good time, go see a movie, avoid the Gargoyle, watch for the gremlins in the sewers and don't feed on V.V's girls, it pisses her off." I turned from him once more and hurried out the door.

I limped, hopped and walked my way to a costume shop; unsurprisingly these were most common in the town of dead silver screen dreams. I hesitated at the Girl Scout, Indian and Snow Princess costumes and shook my head; they would not do for one with things to hide. I could feel the shopkeeper's gawking stare upon me and sent him into a light fit of giggles whilst I browsed. Trousers, oh how I loathed their dual yet singular nature, they could not decide if they were one thing or two things, yet necessary now to hide the knee. A long sleeved shirt to cover the bruises and yet healing cuts, my dark hair down to hide the bump on my head and gloves, thick, heavy gloves to keep the claw concealed. I put a pair on and frowned scornfully when the claws sliced through tips but in the dark of the night they were yet mostly invisible, for now it would do. I considered a mask, useful to blend with the Masquerade I supposed but I did not like masks, one never knew when a false identity might possess a real one. So I left my sunken eye exposed, not every mortal was perfect, my injuries would not cause Kine to think me Kindred, though they might yet mutter monster.

I did not pay, the judgemental shopkeeper did not deserve my coin and I was light without purse when I was without Kent. Instead I changed and hurried off; lingering on the polluted streets of fame was too painful. I was not surprised when the first taxi I came across had a familiar shady driver. He did not flinch or comment on my state, just asked 'where to' and then started driving when I instructed him to the town that was ever down.

I arrived tired and thirsty, knowing that even my voice of seduction could not disguise my looks I settled for a dirty bite down an alleyway instead. After a quick snack during which no visions of Sarah came but instead bitter memories of Miss Holly Wood I headed to the Ventrue Tower. At least here I might find reward for my efforts instead of rejection, though I suspected I still might receive disgust.

"Jelly doughnut, is that...is that you?" The fat one of authority regarded me nervously, staring at my eye too long.

"See doughnuts burst out of your stomach until you vomit and know the difference," I growled waspishly. I stepped through the metal detectors, grinning as the mermaid tear polish on my weapon prevented it from being detected. As I entered the elevator Chunk began to scream, I wondered if Sebastian would ever care to hear the yells and hoped not. The music was classical and fast, for lift journeys I preferred hard pounding techno music but to each their own. When it pinged I pounced out proudly and hurried into the Prince's large, handsome quarters.

"I have returned from peril and doom!"

The Sheriff eyed me warily, Beckett scrutinised me with his flashing red eyes and Sebastian's blue eyes widened slightly in revulsion, making me pause in hurt. "What happened to you?" the Prince queried bluntly.

"It looks like the work of the Sabbat," Beckett said sardonically, acknowledging that he was stating the obvious. "Woeful when one has to do dealings with them."

"Woeful indeed," I murmured darkly, "and annoying and painful and most peculiar." I beamed at Sebastian. "But sacrifices must be made for keys for rewards."

"Then you got the key?" Sebastian queried anxiously as he took a hesitant step towards me.

"Am I too ugly to present it and see reward?" I demanded as I folded my arms and paused in my skipping. "Or will the Prince accept the lock opener from his loyal servant and promise recompense?"

"Yes, yes," the blonde answered irritably, "you'll get your payment, just give Beckett the key."

I nodded happily and produced it from my shirt pocket. An old and formerly dusty thing of bone with a single red gem in its frame, I wondered curiously if it had once been a giant's finger or a penguin's mutated toe, it was such a puzzling shape for a bone. I handed it to Beckett who accepted it carefully and began to study it whilst La Croix looked to him anxiously and impatiently. After five long seconds he queried, "well? Will it work?"

"Not to be predictable," Beckett droned, "but there is only one way to find out." He carried it over to the relic, which was resting on tissue paper on La Croix's large, mahogany table. He picked it up with care, turned it over and placed the key slowly into the appropriate slot.

"What if it is a trap?" I pondered curiously. "Tick tock then kaboom!"

Beckett paused and La Croix scowled at me before whipping his head to the Gangrel nervously. The shady eyed wolf gave a small chortle before turning the key. "I think I would pick up on such a trap, forgive me if I consider my years of experience to be useful in this case," he murmured as the lid popped open. He sat the relic down, opened his satchel and produced a pair of tweezers; with these he delicately lifted a piece of worn, thin, golden paper from the relic.

"A scroll of directions," I mused, "this way and that, all ways are the queen's!"

Beckett unrolled the tiny scroll, pinning one corner with the tweezers, the other with a paperweight and the other two with his own gloved hands. I wondered if he had claws to hide and if perhaps we were now furry kin. "You are most perceptive, but then that is the curse of your kind, method in madness, and madness in method," Beckett commented.

La Croix rushed to Beckett's side, leaning close to study the paper. "It's torn," he lamented.

"Yes, it is only a fragment, and an old one at that but I recognise these landmarks, this is Hellas."

"Ah of philandering Zeus!" I cried out.

"What?" Sebastian queried as he gave me a dubious look. "Ugh," he winced, "your eye is leaking, doesn't that hurt?"

"Are you concerned my Prince?" I queried hopefully. "Or merely worried for stains on the golden carpet?"

"A bit of both," he muttered scornfully before turning his cold blue eyes back on the scroll. "What is it a map to?" he demanded.

"Well, these letters are ancient Greek and though they're faint, I believe this word says 'rest', someone's rest but unfortunately that name has faded. Thus we can assume it indicates a tomb."

"A tomb?" Sebastian rasped. "Ah, probably of a king or something, right?"

"With fangs and a bleeding crown," I mused, earning another questioning look from the blonde.

"Most likely, maybe not even so important, yet I would speculate not necessarily Greek in origin. The relic itself, a Noddist relic as we know, comes from a more ancient origin. Its purpose was not originally to hold this scroll."

"So the two aren't connected?" Sebastian queried.

"I would not say that," Beckett retorted, "it would require more studying and perhaps a venture to this tomb. Although," he paused and his red eyes flashed my way before he continued dryly, "I wonder how coincidental the raiding of a tomb near Athens was."

"Recent raiding? How barbaric," Sebastian sneered, a little too quickly, "by whom?"

So keen for knowledge and other things, the voices whispered of a bloodstained chessboard, and of bones buried shallow with sharp teeth. "It casts a crooked shadow," they murmured.

"I don't know," Beckett confessed, "someone rich, powerful and with an interest in history or, and again one wonders at the coincidences at play, perhaps a more unnatural interest. You see, the tomb came here, maybe it's how the Sabbat found this relic and its key."

"Do the mad bone benders have it?" I asked.

"If they do we can assume it opened and desecrated," Beckett replied deprecatingly, "they do have a rather fond obsession with antediluvians, seem to think they're going to pop up in every coffin and sarcophagus."

"Nonsense of course," La Croix dismissed.

"Indeed," Beckett agreed, "these are the kind of ridiculous, superstitious assumptions I came here to debunk."

"Then why does the Prince want a chase for the dead container?" I pondered.

Sebastian's look was icy and his frown scornful. "I have reason to believe that in the wrong hands this could cause trouble and if word got out about its existence, well certain Kindred would jump to the wrong conclusions and anarchy would break out. Quite simply, this needs found before it becomes public knowledge."

"I will not fetch," I said boldly, "I have yet no reward for my deformed troubles."

"Where would you begin anyway?" Beckett asked. "I have leads, but they are thin, I will follow them though, if only to debunk yet another myth."

"And report them to me?" La Croix questioned anxiously. Now why did the Prince not demand of the wolf but instead begged?

"I will let you know what I find," Beckett answered grudgingly. "Now, the dawn will soon be here, I must depart for another day."

"Will you take the Malkavian with you?" La Croix asked. "As a precaution?"

Beckett looked at me with interest. "Normally I work best alone but in this case her unique foresight could be useful. Allow me a few evenings alone first to gather my research, I suspect our tomb raiders Kine in origin rather than Kindred, strange as it seems with the relic in Kindred hands."

"Ah are they amply chested with plaits?" I wondered.

"I should think not but who knows?" Beckett answered politely. "Now, good evening, I will return in four nights."

"Good night Beckett," La Croix responded courteously.

I waved as he walked towards the doors and called, "sweet dreams of girls in red."

He gave me a sardonic, forced laugh in answer before he left us.

"Must you bend like that?" La Croix asked me irritably. I was leaning on my right leg for support as my left ached and refused to straighten.

"The Tzimisce tinkered with my parts," I explained woefully.

His blue eyes widened a fragment but I did not spy concern within them. "The price of dealing with the Tzimisce I suppose," he commented carelessly.

"The price of aiding a Prince," I replied darkly.

"Well if you're not up to it," he began smugly until my eyes turned angrier, "that is...you've done well," he spluttered, "but if your injuries are going to plague you...well..."

"I will see the task of the crowned undead through," I said confidently. "I have no other tasks to distract my spurned minds."

"Right, well that's good to hear, admirable willpower."

I took a step towards him and heard the Sheriff take a step towards me. "Might we feed this time?" I asked hopefully. "One little blood bite, and then a lonely slumber. Does the Prince bunk in his office or down below in a royal coffin?"

"That is not your concern," he murmured, "but as for supper, well it's late but I suppose..." He paused and frowned pointedly at my eye again. "Well if it's what you want," he said grudgingly.

"I want my Prince to not spite me for my features; I am not as hideous as the boil coated sewer dwelling allies. I want my services and loyalty recognised by someone, else my efforts are pointless and my confused existence questionable. Share a feed with me highness, prove yourself above physical disgust."

"Is that it?" he questioned in annoyance. "You think I'm going to dismiss your services because of your eye? Only if it affects your service, not because of my personal opinions, of which I have none. The appearance of other Kindred does not concern me; I am not cursed with the vanity and shallowness of a Toreador. Yes I pride myself on appearance but I am not driven by it."

"Then the looks of a dark haired poet did not help any past relations?"

"Pardon?" La Croix's gaze hardened and turned threatening.

Ah had I not promised Kent my silence? But then had he not sworn loyalty to me? "Can we feed together then?" I asked innocently.

His frown did not vanish but he nodded. "Yes," he snapped before walking over to his intercom and pressing a button. "Miss Green could you come in for a moment?" He summoned supper.

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><p><em>In reference to Isaac's other Ghoul it's the guy who greets you when you first arrive in Hollywood and then proceeds to bug the hell out of you if you don't go to Isaac. If you kill him you can mention it to Isaac who doesn't give a rat's ass, which makes me think the Ghoul was kind of a prick to everyone :-)<em>


	28. Chapter 28

_ mara, thank you I had no clue lol and I'm really glad you like my portrayal of the Toreadors, somehow I manage to make the most loving, feely clan out to be assholes lol._

_ kev, now that would be telling, you will just have to read and find out!_

_To everyone else, wow yesterday seems to have been popular for this fanfic, I got quite a lot of people favouring it, I'm so grateful! I'm glad so many of you are enjoying this fanfic!_

* * *

><p>The four nights passed torturously slow for myself and my minds. On the first night I had ventured to Venus', daring to hope for a public snack. There I had been greeted with revulsion and mockery and the false pity of the beat princess who tentatively suggested that shots would help. I had left after offering my insulters some hallucinations and had crept to the hospital to find solace with Pisha.<p>

The flesh eater had been dismissive of my state, calling it a tangle with Tzimisce; she knew their handiwork right away, referring to it as crude. She was not disgusted with me but not welcoming either, I hindered her feeding; putting off her would be victims by dressing up in a bed sheet with poked out eyeholes and howling at them. Goths had giggled, called it a poor prank and hastened to scarier things, a filmmaker had yelled cut, called me an amateur and put off filming for another night.

Unwanted I had returned to my lonely bed in the apartments that drew a line at the sky. La Croix had gifted me with an apartment there, a reward for my loyalty. Nightly now I entertained myself by chatting to the tropical fish in the towering tank by the door and listening to the radio but when I heard a familiar crypt keeper's voice I couldn't help a sniffle. He called himself Greg, a power plant worker and I wondered if my loss had made him create personas to make up for it. I turned off the radio in despair and headed out. I went to the Empire Arms, an old haunt with familiar Kine; yes I could satiate my thirst here. The clerk regarded me scornfully and on his lips I sensed rejection.

"Do you want to slip out back?" I purred. "A private rendezvous of you and I," I suggested, throwing all the seduction that I could into my voice. "I see our shadows intertwining, you and I making music against the wall."

"Er..." He looked at me hesitantly and I willed him to want me, to desire me above all others, to be attracted to me. I could still will this, yes a moment of pretence, a false caress, better than none.

"You're handsome in your suit," I murmured, "and such soft hair, I want to touch it." My words were blunt and feeble, I lacked a Toreador's smooth tongue, but I had a Kindred's voice of persuasion and that was enough.

"Out back?" he muttered. "Yes, alright, but I can't be long, there's no one to mind the desk."

I grinned at him and saw him shudder with revulsion. "Behind in the staff quarters, let's you and I be one." He turned and shuffled off, slowly in a trance. I hurried round and down the doors to the corridor that led to the locked staff door. I picked the lock with ease and entered to greet the dazed clerk. My gaze hardened when he looked pointedly at my eye with disgust. I would not have his caresses then but his apologetic devotion, most definitely. "Lick my eye," I commanded, "lick it clean and kiss away the pain."

He shuddered but staggered forward, unable to disobey. So weak minded some Kine were, so easy to control. His tongue edged out and he licked at the pus and blood. We both shook then, his tongue was damp and uncomforting, he could not hold me like Isaac or Romero. He licked and kissed at my orb until it was dry for a brief few seconds, then he turned from me suddenly and vomited onto the floor. Even with all my gifts it seemed I could not keep malleable minded Kine from being revolted by me. "Vomit then," I scorned, "vomit bugs!"

I turned and exited with a burning hatred, charging down the corridors and into the bathroom. I cornered a lonely woman exiting a stall and bit her hard. I made it hurt, I made her scream into my palm and I made her bleed. If I had to hurt then so did everyone else, let them burn like me, let them scream and sob as I did nightly now. I left her sobbing, confused and without memory to explain the wound, I left her with a gap in her neck so wide she would inevitably die.

I retreated early to my bed, lying upon it hours before dawn and flickering through the t.v channels aimlessly. Stories of the Southland Slasher just made me ache more, so I closed my eyes and opened myself to the voices. Anything for a distraction.

When the fourth night came I was relieved and happy to hobble back to the Ventrue Tower. Chunk greeted me hesitantly and when I headed to the lifts I heard him mumbling in confusion about doughnuts. I vowed that if he flinched when he looked at me next he would have visions of fanged doughnuts for the rest of his life. I wondered if vampire doughnuts would prefer drinking blood or jam then as I ascended in the lift.

My handsome blonde prince was pacing about the room nervously with his hands together; he paused once to look at stoic faced Beckett and query, "are you sure?" Beckett nodded and Sebastian resumed his pacing. Was this what he did to lose the blood calories? Could the dead even put on weight? If we gorged on blood did we simply piss and vomit it out?

"Where to then?" I queried chirpily as I grinned at Beckett. "And who's got the boxed body, Kine or Kindred?"

"Both," Beckett answered calmly. "I had to wonder who would be rich enough to sneak it out and equally would have Kindred to help them during the daylight hours but Kine amongst them who could hold their tongues."

"Sabbat?" I guessed.

He shook his head. "If only it were so simple, no they had the key and the relic, both stolen and now, having pieced together some leads, I know who they stole them from."

"Oh who? Who?" I squealed as I clapped my hands together. "Leprechauns? They're sneaky devils! Or hobgoblins, they like stealing."

"No," Beckett answered dryly as he gave me a condescending red eyed stare, "more difficult foes, the Giovanni."

"Ah the crime boss leader! We shall have to get our Pokémon ready!"

"The Giovanni," Sebastian commented sharply, "a new group of Kindred, a faction formed after their leader Augustus Giovanni thought to diablerize his own clan's sire. He was a Cappadocian but when he diablerized their founder Cappadocius he destroyed the clan and founded his own, the Giovanni."

"They have taken keeping in the family to beyond the grave," Beckett commented dryly, "rich, mainly Italian and with an unhealthy interest in necromancy; they are not of the Sabbat, Anarchs or Camarilla and have a faction in L.A."

"They're a law onto themselves," Sebastian growled out hatefully, "an irritation and if there were more of them in L.A they would be a problem but as it is their numbers are few here." Still enough for dancing with the dead a voice informed me, and just too many for the jester prince to risk annoying.

"They also have a fondness for diablerie," Beckett commented calmly, "which might be a motive for their raiding of the tomb, in which case we will probably find it destroyed." He frowned slightly. "Of course they are greedy above all else so we might hope that they realised our coffin for what it is, a highly valuable piece of history, potentially Noddist history rather than the fanciful chamber for an ancient. Of course in either case I imagine they will be most reluctant to part with it."

"Then we shall steal it," I commented brightly, "under the ground, out the back and into a lorry."

"Subtle," Beckett replied sardonically with a small, fanged grin. "I only wish to study it, be that there or here is of little consequence to me. Maybe it will even prove to be a genuine Noddist artefact."

"But no resting place for an ancient?" I queried anxiously.

"I doubt it."

I looked to Sebastian who was scowling. "It needs brought here," he snapped, "before anyone else learns of it and jumps to conclusions. You must find it," he addressed me, "scout the area and then report, I will have Kindred nearby ready to take it, you will let them know how well guarded it is and then do what you can to help them take it. Do it as subtly as you can," he paused to look at my eye distastefully, "if that's even possible for you anymore. I do not want the Giovanni finding out about the theft until you are gone. Use Obfuscate, it's probably the only useful talent your clan has."

"Well if that's the plan," Beckett spoke up distastefully, "then I will just wait here for the artefact's return, better than getting in your way." He looked at me with a disapproving red gaze. "If you can bring it in one piece please do, after all this effort it would be such a shame to be deprived of the prize."

"Indeed," I retorted bitterly, "it would be a pity to see my mutations caused for nothing."

"Yes," Sebastian spoke up and I turned to see him studying my crippled leg with revulsion, "about that, this is an important mission, are you certain your er...ailments won't get in the way?"

I looked hard at him as his blue gaze flickered up to mine and realised what Kent had once, that I was dispensable. Sebastian could afford to lose me and if he did it would only prove that I was weak and not worth having but the coffin, the potential box of ancient blood, now there was a treat best kept out of power hungry fangs. I had no one else but the ambitious prince though, the rebels loathed me, my Baron had cast me out and banned the crypt keeper from having me and the Camarilla wanted my brother's head, I was alone save for the voices and they were not corporeal company.

"I am the master of mind tricks," I answered confidently, "illusions and deception, what I cannot triumph over physically I shall defeat mentally. I have not failed you yet prince and unlike others I returned to you from the Sabbat den."

He frowned a little and quipped, "others? Sometimes I wonder if you Malkavians truly know how accurate your insight is or if it is a coincidence when things you say prove true. Yes there were others, all weak and foolish but I did not send them unwittingly to the firing line, they were warned but they chose to wander a dangerous path. Was it foolishness or simply a loyalty so deep that even sense and my own caution could not prevent them from their decision to wander into the Sabbat's territory?"

"Perhaps they expected the cavalry," I suggested tentatively. Still hadn't named names, Kent couldn't get mad. Of course the poet deserved treachery, he deserved my gifting his head to his highness on a silver platter but though I burned with hatred for the Toreador and his friends some side of me still felt love and would not allow me revenge, at least not in so violent and final a manner.

"Of course not," Sebastian retorted swiftly, "if I wanted to march an army on the Sabbat well...come now it would cause a bloodbath that would risk our exposure to the Kine and see too many Kindred needlessly slaughtered. No, this is the burden of leading, you must know when to strike but you must also know when to simply survive. The Sabbat must be dealt with more astutely, believe me, when they cause trouble it does not go ignored."

"But the individuals who seek to dish out justice?"

"If they do at my request," Sebastian answered stubbornly as a moment of rage flared up in his pale gaze, "then they then do so with the necessary equipment, support and a plan. I do not send Kindred on suicide missions." The monarch hisses with the serpent's tongue. A lie, well of course, dear La Croix wouldn't be much of a ruler if he didn't lie.

I nodded, weary of the conversation. "So when must I go to the Giovanni?" I queried. Find the box, coffin or whatever container of the dead it might be, it was a clear goal, one big enough to keep me distracted from my woes. After though...well I would see for myself what was in the mystery box first and then decide to whom the spoils would go if anyone. Maybe the Giovanni deserved what they had gone to pains to take, why should I be the one to judge otherwise?

"Tomorrow evening," Sebastian decided curtly.

I nodded agreeably, the sooner the better. A heavy patter struck the tall panes without warning, a rainstorm to turn Downtown's gloomy streets even more miserable, and me without an umbrella to shield my warped, dead flesh.

"I must go," Beckett decided as he glanced out the tall windows that blurred the modern, crowded structure of Downtown, turning the many lights of the brick towers to streaks of gold.

"Farwell Beckett," Sebastian spoke to him courteously, "and thank you for your help, naturally you will be the first to look at this coffin when it is brought here, without worry of disturbance."

"Indeed." I saw Beckett brighten a little with that thought. He looked at me and said, "good luck then young one, and do take care."

"I shall wrap the box up nice and neat for you," I assured, "with a shiny bow."

Beckett gave no reply; he just nodded again before heading towards the doors, past the shadow of the silent Sheriff. The Gangrel did not flinch and the tree like vampire did not acknowledge the passing Kindred. I wondered what secret Beckett had that made it so easy, perhaps he had the head of Medusa in his satchel and perhaps the Sheriff was aware of this and reluctant to become anymore of a statue than he was. I thought he might be better suited that way.

I looked at the glittering drops spattering and streaking against the window and felt a prickle of sorrow, my Toreadors would certainly have appreciated the beauty. It was getting heavier and louder and I was reluctant to leave and submit myself to it. Here was bright and cosy, well as cosy as a large office lacking comfortable couches and a fireplace could be.

I could feel Sebastian's curious and impatient gaze upon me and met it. I had done him many services now and suffered much for him, the least he could do was humour me as Isaac once had. Isaac was a Toreador though, humouring could be in their nature but Sebastian was a military styled Ventrue, their nature was no nonsense ruling, and they had no time for frivolous fancies. Still, I deserved something. "Can I sit here?" I queried hopefully, looking to the soft, Persian rug on the floor, better it than the stiff backed chairs, even Goldilocks would struggle to find comfort on one of them.

"If you must," Sebastian answered me dismissively before he walked back to his desk. He seated himself down in grand chair and immediately busied himself with notes spread out before him and his laptop screen. Ventrue were born and killed to be busy, even in death the clock was still ticking for them.

I seated myself on the rug, crossing my legs and pretending not to hear Sebastian's grunt of displeasure as the rug creased ever so slightly beneath me. I then turned my attention to the pixies dancing about the gold and crystal chandelier high above, they at least were amusing. After an hour my leg became to itch and the burning in my eye passed from irritation to agony, the thirst was growing again as was another longing. I could not face lying through the morning alone, yet who could I lie with? Such effort it would take to seduce a Kine and could I ensure that they would sleep through the day? Would it be worth it? I doubted any Kine could match Romero's rough charm or Phil's reluctantly tender grasp, and I knew there was no Kindred who could soothe the madness as Isaac had, he made my voices calmed and lulled away the headaches, he made my unrealised fears continue to be unrealised and he made me feel loved. No one could match that but perhaps I could pretend.

I rubbed at my eye, blurring it with pus, and though of the residents of Downtown, mortal and immortal, moral and amoral, an unconcerned flesh eater, a wizard king, a motley group of rebels who would sooner stake than cuddle me, a man of many goods, a goddess, a woman who traded with her body, an aspiring film maker, a leader of bears and gangs, the numerous riders of the white horse, the fat doughtnut lover, the stoic sheriff, the princely one and others. None could or would compare to Isaac, Romero or even Phil or Chase but maybe that was what I needed, change.

"Are you going soon?" Sebastian queried bluntly. Realising his rudeness might chase away his devoted minion or perhaps feeling genuinely guilt over it, he added, "or do you need somewhere to stay?"

A tempting offer, though I could see it was one that promised loneliness forgotten in the private offices of the hard working Ventrue who worked so hard they had no time to retreat to their ostentatious abodes. I would be left to lie in someone who had made it home's coffin, their punishment for daring to seek some personal time instead of devoting themselves fully to Sebastian's matters. Oh he had it all worked out, even a kind gesture was usually a barbed chastisement for someone else.

"I will go," I said calmly as I stood up and rubbed my eye once more.

"You should clean that," he advised coolly, "and maybe get a hooded coat, with a scarf, and thick gloves, it's autumn, you won't stand out." He bit back the 'as much' but I heard it anyway.

"I could play Red Riding Hood in the rain," I retorted with forced mirth, "and Beckett can be my wolf when I return." I tried to twirl but my leg refused to comply, growing stiff and groaning instead. Not enough that my minds groaned, now my limbs were doing it too, my body was growing entirely too noisy. I instead made it a half turn and hastened to the door. "Goodnight my Prince," I called back cheerfully, "I must hurry before Helios comes."

"Goodnight," Sebastian muttered.

I grinned at the Sheriff and received an impassive scowl in retort. "Sleep tight and don't let the ghosts of slain teenagers bite," I advised before I hurried out the door. I hastened to the lift and pressed the button rapidly until the doors binged open at last. I stumbled in, hummed loudly against the music, determined to have the tune of my own minds be heard, hurried out past Chunk and rushed out into the rain. At last I could cry and no one would see, it was but raindrops on my worn cheeks. Just cold, slices of rainwater mixing with the pus, I walked slowly, no coat, no hat nor an umbrella to shield me; I was exposed to the wrath of Zeus. One attractive man came towards me, ready to offer help but then he spotted my eye and hurried on past me as if I were Obfuscated. Enraged, I followed him, pushed him down an alleyway and into a wall forcefully, tore open his throat and gorged until I was bored, then I left him to slump to the ground and die.

"You stole it."

I looked up at the voice, two Gangrels blocking the alleyway, two beasts barely disguised as humans with the mad glare in their glowing eyes that said they were Sabbat. I turned from them and found a Brujah tearing noisily at my victim finishing my job.

"You took the key," the Gangrel accused, "and gave it to that bastard Ventrue. Now we're going to make you pay."

"How much?" I queried. "And what currency? Dinars, Euros, pounds, dollars? I have some yen if you'd like."

"Bitch," the second Gangrel snarled. Then he came for me, they all did. I sent out my madness in all directions, Hysteria, Hallucinations and Berserk, I panicked and flung out all that I could. I tore my glove off and lashed out with my own claws as a wolf snapped at my heels and I watched and shrieked in horror as beetles burrowed into my arms. A fist punched the back of my skull, a foot struck deep in the back of my ruined knee and a bone snapped in my right arm.

My vision went red, I had used too many gifts at once, the Kine's blood was not enough to keep me going. Madness, hunger, thirst, defend, attack. Lash out, lash out! Tear the flesh, find the blood! Something howling in my hands, a head without a body, toss it away, useless! I ran, jumped, kicked and punched. I needed to feed! I needed the blood! Ah a Brujah, useless to bite, rip through the flesh and bones, there's a heart, plunge deep into it. I winced as my arm burned as my victim became ash.

Just one more Gangrel. I tried to leap for him but my leg foiled me again and I smacked my face off the pavement gracelessly, I heard him give a mocking, growled laugh as I pushed myself up. I was dizzy now and everything was horribly red. We collided, he showed me birds and I offered him spinning skulls vomiting blood. His claws sank deep into my stomach and my fangs worried through his neck. I could drink his carmine liquid, it was not the same, too cold, too sour, I did not want it. I flung him back, kicked him with my good leg and then finally, ended it all with my beautiful, almost forgotten sword. A clean cut through the heart and he was ash too.

I looked briefly at the sword as my vision returned to normal and then the sobs racked through me. A gift from Kent, we had shared a bed, built sandcastles and went on many missions, he was meant to be my friend, he was meant to be Rob. Yes, a voice snapped accusingly, that was what you always wanted, big brother Kent, always so dependent Sarah, soppy Sarah needs a brother, brother's gone. No he's just dead like us, and mad in a different way, happy, kind, loving Robert Grey is gone, he still cares but it hurts him to show it, he won't risk attachment again. Cling to selfish Kent then, he's the only one you can grasp at, what a pity, he's all about the cause, he's all about revenge, stupid Toreador can't commit to anything can he? Least of all you.

I sheathed my sword and feel to the ground, hugging myself as the pelting rain began to banish the blood. No more Kent, no more Romero, no more Isaac, no more Hollywood, no more home, no more sanctuary for Ariadne and no one to keep Sarah at bay. She was seeping back, sneaking into our heads with the madness, determined to shout louder than the other voices, to be heard over the insane on the web.

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><p><em>I debated over where the coffin would be, the Giovanni having it does follow the game more closely than I had intended but I also felt they deserved some development and I loved their segment in the game and really want to write about them. Also, when I read about them they really loved diablerizing, so it just made sense.<em>


	29. Chapter 29

_Happy Christmas everyone! Sorry this took so long, to be honest it was a hard chapter to write I really wanted to delve into the Giovanni but I felt I was using too much game dialogue but then I felt it helps set the scene and begin the development of characters, I mean this fanfic is inspired by the game after all. Anyway hope you all enjoy!_

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><p>A wonderful gilded prison sat high on a hill, at first it seemed to reek of opulence but as I wandered closer I saw the decay, ivy strangling the chipped white walls, statues missing limbs, perhaps one Mr Gimble had taken them, stains streaking down the walls, brown in the lights streaming through the thin curtains, and a scent of rot from somewhere below, something akin to the reek in Romero's graveyard. I saw a grand, three tiered fountain and hurried over to steal its coins but found its basin disappointingly dry and empty, had some water nymph beat me to the theft? Was her fountain father dead and dry? I looked in confusion and caught the lazy eyed brown stare of a woman a little too inebriated to focus properly on me. She was one of several glamorously dressed people spread out across the uneven garden, some clustered by the doors smoking, others by the stretched out parked cars, poor vehicles were victims too long in the rack. I flickered a glance to the door and saw the tough thugs in tight suits that might create a slight problem for little me.<p>

I had, at Sebastian's insistence, dressed as prettily, demurely and concealed as I could, couldn't draw attention to the eccentricity, to the wounds, to the mutations, and especially not to the madness. The Giovanni were so used to treachery that they were usually the quickest to sense it, paranoia had them wary and unwelcoming of strangers but neglect and horniness thankfully meant that their family was so large that one, with care, could make pretence at being a member.

I turned my attention back to my smoky eyed companion and smiled. She wobbled unsteadily, smoothed down her purposely tight, lacy vest, smiled and queried bluntly with a hint of laughter, "yee-ah, what is it?" I swallowed down a ball of contempt as I wondered if she was mocking me, spying the marks I tried to conceal, claws hidden beneath thick, black gloves with faux fur trim, fun costumes traded for a crimson dress, sleeveless, low cut and yet down to my ankles to hide the ruined leg, high heeled, black shoes, a poor trade for cowboy boots and the studded, leather boots Romero was so fond of, a black stole to hide my pallid shoulders and most of my pale arms and my wild, dark hair down to shield my ruined eye as best it could. Had the sweet wine on her breath given her the ability to see through my guise? Was I doomed before I even attempted deception?

We are the masters of deceiving, the wielders of illusion, cut down the inbreds who make play with the dead. I smiled as I agreed with the voices, no Kine could outwit me. "Is this where the Giovanni gather?" I queried innocently.

She looked puzzled for a moment before answering with uncertainty, "Giovanni? Oh yeah, here's the place. I haven't met you before..." She slurred over her words, doubting each one and I wondered if she was but a puppet pushed on by an imposter trying to wing it. "You a...family...member...member of the family?"

"I am flesh and blood," I answered truthfully, well I was despite the Tzimisce's best attempts to see that I was other parts too. Alright so I was now flesh, fur and blood but I did not think such a minute detail needed mentioned.

She looked delighted with me and chirped happily, "izzat right? Helluva family to be born into or marry into...or both." Hmm now there was a thought, were they so close or simply so afraid of outsiders? Were they as mutated as me perhaps? I glanced about shadily, certainly not to the open eye or indeed the pus filled one. "You have an invitation with you?"

"Somewhere within a dark, dark pocket in a dark, dark coat in a dark, dark closet perhaps," I answered with what I hopped was a convincingly stupid look to mirror her own.

She giggled, and tapped my arm lightly with her sparkling nails, glittering and pink I thought they would look lovely on a chain about my neck. "Ah, don't worry about it," she assured me as she stumbled slightly and reached out to me again to support herself. So she wasn't repulsed by me then, either she was not vain, or my illusion was convincing, or, I had to consider, maybe it was only the Toreador and certain Kine who simply were not attracted to me, that were revolted by me, yes perhaps my injuries were not severe, so horrid, perhaps I could still seduce and charm without need of illusion and power, perhaps... Perhaps the mirror is best left cracked, lest Snow see what she has rotted to in death. "I'm sure they'll let you in," my new friend continued. "Just tell 'em th- just tell you...just tell them you lost it. I lose things all the time."

"Ah when the mind is a sieve it so hard to keep the grains of thought in it, but so easy to scatter the crumbs of nightmares," I mused. "Are you using your invite?" I looked at her keenly, stirring up the confusion planted by alcohol, turning her brain through the foam, twisting her thoughts through a dizzy daze.

"Did I just say I have an invitation? I thought I did..." She glanced about herself, pulling up part of her short, black skirt, giggling and then pulling out her vest top slightly to laugh down at her breasts and the thin paper tucked in between them. I heard her male companion give a grunt of displeasure and ensured his muteness with a glower; he could not interrupt just yet. Keep the barbed tongue silent, we must hear the whispers howling down the corridor, the screams of the burned child, the wails of the dead, so much to hear, too many voices, just listen to the cries of the mad, they make the most sense in the end. "Yeah, I got an invitation," she informed me merrily as her pink painted lips smiled.

I narrowed my gaze viciously, this sweet friendship had to end now, a pity but the prince's deeds needed done. Alas I could not, she had touched me without a shudder, looked at me with only a smidgen of mockery, and that was the beer's ridicule, beverages could be so judgemental. I nodded wearily. "I'll see you inside," I retorted before turning my attention swiftly to the muted male. He was pallid but not to my extent, dark haired, poised, good looking and stern mannered. "Who are you?" I asked curiously.

"Victor Rossellini," he answered bluntly.

"Not a Giovanni?" I pondered. "Do you have an invite?"

"Maria is the Giovanni," he answered with an eye roll of disgust towards my new friend. I glanced over and she waved happily before letting out a burp concealed with a laugh.

"Are you using your invite?" I asked him, wondering if couples could depend on just one piece of card.

"Of course," he answered patronisingly as he looked at me with distain. Always much easier to mindfuck the ones who are hostile. "Who are you?" he demanded suspiciously.

I smirked back rancorously. "I'm you. Don't you recognise yourself?"

His dark eyes wavered in doubt, horror and then a mad delight I was so good at causing. "There I am!" he exclaimed joyously. "You're looking sharp, old boy- that time on the treadmill's really paying off. Oh, and you'll be needing this if you want to attend that party, me." How silly to think my skills were going rusty, the Tzimisce could not diminish my abilities, scars or not I would succeed again and again! I accepted the invite he produced from his trouser pocket with a nod of gratitude as Maria snickered obliviously and stumbled slightly over the pebbled path.

I attempted to prance up to the double wooden doors but my leg refused to comply and I was forced to walk, probably for the best anyway, had to remember to be low key. "You have invitation?" the shiny headed bouncer questioned with a frown.

"I have my ticket," I answered proudly, "let me in the fun house." I whipped it out and wavered it under his wide nose.

"Victor Rossellini?" he questioned with a scowl that I suspected suggested my entry might yet be denied.

"My parents wanted a boy," I lamented, "and my lack of a penis sadly wasn't enough to deter them from charade."

His pale brown eyes widened and his frown deepened as his cheeks turned a light rosy pink.

"Daddy insisted I played football, all I wanted was to do ballet," I continued passionately, "when I was older he bought me porn when I wanted ponies."

"Alright, alright," he protested. "Please have a wonderful time." He waved towards the doors desperately and I hurried forward eagerly.

Inside was a small reception room, two lamps in modern, black stems and another bouncer guarded the way to the Italian mysteries. The floor was grey and white checked and I was most tempted to suggest an impromptu game of chess with the red tied guard. There are enough pawns moving, Jyhad is a bigger game to be played, I was reminded. I stepped through the next set of doors to enter a Wonderland of gangsters, bloodsuckers and gold diggers, Alice would have been most disappointed. Walls of polished greys, floors of shined marble, rippled columns at every turn and at last the arena with its sharp eyed Romans, the lions masquerading with the gladiators, such wondrous and convincing disguises of affluence and beauty, had perhaps a Giovanni deceived Little Red?

I remembered Kent's suggestion of using Auspex more and separated the sheep from the bats, the blue suited bouncers were Kindred and behind them, through the thick walls and barred doors, a flicker of purple, the predators in hungry waiting. How many would leave this party? The guards looked back at me with warning black stares, they had no Auspex and yet I suspected they knew I breathed as little as they. Their ancestors had possessed it but alas the bloodline had been watered down despite its continuous blood devouring, yes I had done my research, a quick scan through a tome of Romero's and the voices told me the rest, this family based clan was too obsessed with the rattles of the dead to care for any other disciplines. Their nature to control gave them Dominance and their common desire to appear tough gave them Potence, but the third discipline, yes I could sniff it on them, something Xander would have benefited from, it was the blood magic that could control the dead.

I hastened on into the front room, a grand staircase split down the middle, uniting halfway and leading up to the balcony was the main feature, along with a sadly unused grand piano, though I doubt its tinkling keys could be heard over the manipulative chatter. I headed to it keenly to tap a key but was stopped by the contemptuous eyed female lingering near it. Young, tanned and beautiful with a black bob, a sumptuous red corset and split black skirt that showed off her toned body, long legs and modest yet tempting chest, I loved and loathed her immediately. Any Toreador would be sorely tempted by her, I knew Kent would have gone to her immediately and charmed her to his dead bed, there were many eyes on her tonight but her icy cobalt stare and curled lips of contempt kept them at bay.

She looked at me with confident pomposity but I knew it was a guise, were we all disguised here? The Masquerade had nothing on these power mad tricksters. "Might as well be a costume party," she remarked sardonically, "everyone smiling, pretending this isn't a pageant put on by the patriarch of this family. Fine. But this is a contest and I came to win." Such arrogance, but this beauty had more at stake than she was telling. I could hear her blood pumping round her madly, she was nervous, excited and terrified, yes I could smell it. I wanted to sample her but I daren't, probably just as well she had a choker to protect her tender neck though how taunting it was, continuously drawing my attention to her supple throat. Had she some scar to hide like me?

"Chug chug," I mused, "your train of thought is too quick for me."

She sighed heavily and folded her arms. "If you don't even know about the contest, then you really don't have to worry about winning it." I saw the slight glimmer of relief in her blue eyes; I was no competitor to face in the arena, one less threat to worry about. Ah how naive, she was oblivious to the monster that I was.

"I'm Maria," I lied cheerfully, "and you?"

"Mira," she retorted like it pained her, well no surprise that Beauty was vain, never a Princess Beautiful Personality in the stories, is there? "Mira Giovanni."

I wondered if this anxious beauty queen could be of use in unlocking the secrets of the Giovanni. Certainly she reeked of secrets, a most pleasant if tangy odour; it raced down her skin rapidly, entangling itself in her perfume. "So this contest?" I queried eagerly. "Egg and spoon?"

She frowned, gave me a scrutinising stare I was growing used to and then answered haughtily, "They gather us up here to decide just who the best and brightest of this generation is. The lucky few are given the real power in this family." Real power? Now could that mean the blood of an ancient, or was I just too hopeful for luck and easy answers tonight? "But some of us need to win more than others."

I sniffed it on her, death, not the same death that clung to me but something subtler, slower and poisonous. "Open the box Pandora," I willed her impatiently, tired of how she looked pointedly at my eye with an unhidden disgust. "Let your sins come out."

Her eyes glazed over and I watched gleefully as she mimed out opening a box before gesturing to the invisible sins flying out. "I got curious with needles," she confessed, "and now I'm HIV positive."

"Ah the blood is polluted," I realised. "Silly girl, it tastes bitter now, disappointing. Mother always said; don't play with the pointy things."

"Oh and there's the time I slept with my friend's boyfriend," she murmured dopily as she waved goodbye to another sin escaping.

I nodded with disinterest before swirling from her and gazing about the room for someone more engaging. Somewhere in this mansion a coffin lingered, I could feel something in the air, something pulsing, quiet but threatening, curious and patient, it was near but where? I caught sight of a disinterested, handsome soul standing beneath the balcony against a wall, holding a whiskey with obvious contempt. Ah it was too tempting to see if I could break his walls down, yes smash them all and prove my powers still useful and yes, perhaps I could seduce him too, just to show Mira and the other judgement females that stared so coldly at my eye and my noticeable limp that I could yet attract.

I hurried to him with a smile and remarked, "you are as happy as the moon when the cow has failed to clear the jump."

He gave me a wary golden-brown eyed look before commenting derisively, "you must be from the closer family cliques."

"Ah I am the black sheep of the herd," I replied merrily, "here to attempt grazing with the white flock."

He sighed. "Family events...how many more of these do we have to attend before we're taken seriously? Well," he gave me a look of cool disapproval, "I'm taken seriously. I mean...honestly."

He was rugged looking, a darker skinned version of dearest Ash with the same self-absorbed attitude and smouldering appeal. His hair was as black as the night, styled up in a thick, smooth and flattering style, his moustache was thin and still growing, and the beard at his chin was but stubble needing watered. Yet for all his show of confidence and contempt for the family games I could smell a whiff of desperation on him mixed with that same longing for power that seemed typical amongst these people. "Oh I take you seriously," I insisted with an assuring nod, "and I will help you win the prize in the bloody arena." I upped the charm, choosing seduction over force, I would yet prove my ability to lure men, it was only Isaac who did not want me, but he was a Toreador, they were fickle and changed their desires with the seasons. "You are the most cunning here," I insisted, "I can tell, the rest lose their heads to the hearty queen in the battle, but you know better. Keep your secrets close and play the game."

"Well you can't tell anyone anything because they might use it against you and yet, it's hard not to learn things, oh yes it's amoral to be so ruthless against one's family but the businessman in me tells me to smear them into the ground," he said with just a flair of passion to his voice.

"And so you should," I agreed, "for they would do the same to you. You will be the victor," I insisted, "you have the wit, the charm and the looks." I saw him hesitate for just a moment, almost resisting me but I was not human and he had no choice but to bow to my will. Want me, need me, lust for me and lick my thighs, it's inappropriate to tumble with wild men in the hay but getting our bare skin groped is most fun.

"Well, I suppose you have a point," he mused. "I'm Christopher by the way."

"Ariadne," I gave him one of my names, the name I wanted him to call me, to scream in ecstasy and then in pain and finally in horror. He reminded me too much of Ash, handsome or not, it made him insufferable and once I was done showing the women in the room that the handsome man wanted the freak then I would have his blood and his life. Christopher could no more win his desires than whiny dead phoenix.

"That's a nice name," he said.

"It was a gift," I confessed, "from my friend."

He gave a small chortle as I urged him to find me funny, pretty and completely desirable. Ah but I had not the skills of the Toreadors when it came to charm, just the forceful sugary words that many Kindred could learn with time and practice, save the ugly Nosferatu who I was finding more in common with now. Was I really so wretched and abhorrent? Did Isaac consider me as loathsome as them now? Would he care if I allied with Sebastian? He would deserve it. "Am I pretty Christopher?" I pondered.

"Er..." I glowered at him then and lost my poise in my anger at his vacillation.

"See true ugliness and know the difference!" I snarled. I hurried off before the screams of horror began and a connection could be made to me.

"My arms!" Christopher shrieked. "My flesh is rotting! And the floor, oh God there are guts all over it!"

As the guards headed towards him and the other party goers murmured about a spiked drink, drug abuse and, of course, delight over another competitor losing their chance, I found myself being looked at by another female. Younger with a friendlier smile than Mira, she regarded me curiously with smoky eyes, lacking the expected hostility. "I don't think we've met before," she remarked as she took a step towards me, "I'm Nadia Milliner."

She wore a flattering silvery white dress, low cut with shoulder straps it went down to her ankles and was unadorned. Her skin was smooth and tanned like many of her relations, her looks more homely than Mira's and yet still attractive, it set my fangs on edge. "My card says I'm Maria," I murmured.

She giggled. "Ah someone with a sense of humour, how refreshing! Everyone's so serious here, all this interest in the grand family secret."

"Ah yes, the promise of the Holy Goblet or is it the Grail of Fire?" I pondered. "Hmm other way round maybe, or perhaps it's cookies!"

Nadia giggled again. "I'm working on my Master's out here-The Giovannis have been nice enough to let me stay here while I finish up my studies," she explained. "And I've learned a great deal from them- like you wouldn't believe. That secret everyone's waiting for, well I bet it's connected to what I've learned."

"Ah well crack like an egg and show me your runny yolk," I urged her. "Let me learn the Giovanni's mysteries and the lairs of their hidden dead."

Ensnared she nodded eagerly and commanded me to follow her. She turned and led the way out of the room, showing me her perfect back torso, unblemished and without scars unlike mine, making me hate her as much as Christopher, Mira and her other perfect family members. They were all shallow, vain and beautified, Toreadors in the making they were surely wasted on their own incestuous clan. Nadia led me down a corridor and into a library; she paused and looked back at me warily, reconsidering her choice to show me her newfound knowledge. I was too fed up with her family to play nice, "show me the Giovanni secrets," I snarled at her, "or I will pluck your eyes and crush them beneath my heels."

She trembled and I could not help but take some joy out of the pee that soaked her right leg. I was still a powerful Kindred to be feared, I could still do mind tricks, I was still useful, still beautiful and crafty, I would give Sebastian the ancient blood he wanted and make the Baron rue the day he abandoned me. Let all the pretty vainpires regret scorning me for the deformities I had earned out of loyalty to them! I felt the tears prick my eyes once more and my right eye stung as the pus irritated it. For all my wicked thoughts I did not think I could ever truly see them suffer, certainly not sweet Isaac or brazen Kent, not even sharp tongued Ash or scornful V.V, once my family, now perhaps my enemies if I joined with the only one who did not openly scorn me, the treacherous, snake tongued Prince. What a wicked fate, better to be alone but I abhorred loneliness, no never alone, had the voices, the screams on the web, and ever suffering and insufferable Sarah, and the whispers and the jabbers, yes plenty to hear, and plenty to see, there were the nymphs, the elves and the dwarves after all. Ah but it was too much, too many at once, it got so confusing, I needed my Baron to soothe them, to make order in the madness.

Nadia hunted amongst the bookshelves rapidly, grabbing at books desperately and tossing them carelessly to the floor before she found the trick one and a shelf parted to grant us entry to a secret path. She hurried on, escaping the unknown danger for the more familiar one. I followed, scenting an air full of all sorts of rot and death, the moaning dead Romero knew so well and something else, not quite hidden beneath the Giovanni's puppets. We walked down into a room like an operating room from a cheap horror movie. Nadia turned to me, the memory of my horror suppressed as she tried to grab back some semblance of sanity for herself. She summoned up a calmness and said, "it is pretty disturbing down here, but you have heard the rumours about the family, haven't you? This is an embalming room. Know what they do with the corpses?"

So this one was into what exactly? Corpse watching? Corpse spying? Corpse... Hmm best left unsaid, and I was the mad one here? "Send them to do the grocery shopping?" I ventured a guess.

"I'll show you." Nadia pulled a rusted lever and granted us entry to another secret passage. Further down, closer to the secret, to the theft, to the foolish venture. Ah what have they done? I clutched my head and moaned as suddenly my entire skull seemed to quiver and burn. Put it back! Put it back! Not what it seems! Nothing ever is! It will burn us! It will start the end! Smell it, hear it, feel that power. Ah they are real! I shook my head angrily and banished the squeals on the web before continuing down to a hallway of shambling corpses.

"Don't worry," Nadia said with an ill-suited calm, "they won't bother with you, just stay still."

"Fuck this." I turned from her and swiftly headed back up the way I had come. I had not come to get splattered with corpse brains, and groped by undead arms. There had to be a way to the stolen tomb that did not involve zombies. Although, it was a good idea to have zombies guarding the coffin, so most likely there was no other path and I had so wanted to play with them in Romero's graveyard but sadly been forbidden. I wavered as I reached the embalming room but before I could make a decision I heard a voice demand, "who are you?"

I looked up to see an armed man somewhere in his forties, pale skinned, dark haired, handsome and dressed in a custom made suit, I knew he was most definitely a Kindred, as were his four guards who were also armed. I wondered if the dead could be overkilled. "A second cousin of a third aunt," I explained cheerfully, "Maria Giovanni."

He frowned at me and folded his arms. "Oh really? I was certain I knew all the Kindred in my territory of the Clan given I have sired most of them."

"Well there are so many of us," I retorted helpfully, "it's hard to keep track I'm sure."

"Not when I take such care over who I choose to gift the Kiss to," he retorted coldly. "You are no member of this clan. Who are you and why are you here?"

Think minds, all of you get to work! A friend of a relative? A lost tourist? Um... "I'm Christopher's new girlfriend," I lied, "but he doesn't know I'm Kindred, we are the Romero and Juliet of the horror romance, I am doomed to the night and he to the day."

"Christopher's girlfriend," he stated dryly. "Is that the best you can come up with? Who are you working for is probably the best question to ask."

"I am a self serving agent, but truly Christopher and I, tis a love most misunderstood."

He snapped his pallid fingers and his four guards stepped towards me. "I suspect your presence here is not so innocent," he said, "and if you won't explain willingly, well I'm sure my men can persuade you."

"Ah well depends on their methods," I mused as my gaze flickered between, alas my right eye was clogged with pus and my vision obscured. I was thirsty too, it had been too long since I had last drunk, I needed blood.

"I'm not above torture."

"It's never rainbows and unicorns is it?" I responded woefully.

He reeked of power and leaked of prospect, the Giovanni were as sneaky and cunning as the Ventrue, waiting to strike at the next opportunity. They were dangerous; I understood that, untrustworthy, untrusting and cutthroat, yes they would hurt me for answers, in a different fashion to the Tzimisce but most likely just as painful. "You must be the Giovanni head," I guessed.

"One of them," he admitted curtly. "Bruno Giovanni."

"Ah yes," I murmured, "cunning Bruno, ever wary too, didn't get to the top by playing nice and ignorant. Well I am doomed then if it's you, with your intelligence and grand observation skills you surely already know who I am and my purpose."

He looked at me with cold and merciless brown eyes, perhaps guessing my trick but perhaps not, maybe pride was a weakness he shared with so many Toreadors. He folded his arms and gave me a carefully guarded look. "Perhaps I do," he mused, "but I'm curious to hear your version of things."

"I am no storyteller," I lamented, "the details would only bore you and I'm sure you know them well anyway." I was bartering for time but to what end I could not guess. 'It's waking,' a voice hissed, masculine, fearful and hopeful, 'it hears you, it feels us. Tremble now, it's coming.' "What does the Italian master have hidden beneath the wandering dead?"

A frown appeared on his handsome, aged features, like Isaac he had not been turned young and yet he was smooth skinned, dark haired and bright eyed, alert and strong. "So you want my treasure," he murmured, "as I suspected. Well we weren't as subtle taking it from Greece as I would have liked but it is ours now and no interfering, blood lusting Kindred will take it."

"You are the blood luster," I reminded him, "the traitors in the night, you Clan's trademark will soon be diablerizing."

He looked at me with an icy indifference. "We all survive how we must, our world is treacherous, each of us for themselves and those of us who want power, well we must be expected to take risks and make sacrifices."

"You've gone too far," I realised, "the box is dangerous, you couldn't open it but now the box is burning! You will not have its blood, should have left it buried in Greece, oh it's hungry." I grinned just as all Hell broke loose.


	30. Chapter 30

Silence, thick, choking, unnatural silence. I rose slowly, shielded my eyes from the bits of bodies and blood, there was Nadia, bent abnormally, trying to scream and failing as blood seemed to spring from her bare limbs of its own accord. Kindred and Kine were running about in a blind panic, colliding with one another, stumbling over the dead and dying, most of them injured. Only Bruno and I were unscathed, well I still bore the scars of the flesh crafters so perhaps only Bruno was truly unscathed.

The Giovanni head tried to appear calm as he stood tall and watched for what was coming but I knew he was afraid, we all were, if I could have screamed I would have. Blood began to sweat from my own limbs soaking me in red and suddenly I was bombarded with a torrent of terrible images, horrible memories of both Sarah and Ariadne that I and my many voices had tried to forget.

_"Sarah?" Samantha stammered in horror as she staggered back from me. "I said I wouldn't bother you!" She screamed as I snarled and stepped forward. I watched her fall in her haste to escape me; her golden-brown eyes went so wide and white. "I don't want to die!" I attacked her like a wild beast, tore at her throat with my fangs and ripped it open. "I thought we were friends," she rasped as she died. "Sarah."_

I shook my head in violent protest, no more of Sarah's memories! Whatever was out there was not done though and despite my voices' wordless screams more nightmares and flashbacks washed over me as my blood soaked the floor.

_Rob looked at me in fury and gestured wordlessly to his girlfriend's scratched car. She stood behind him glowering at me hatefully, tapping one high heeled shoe on the pavement and rapping her nails against her elbows. She wanted to slap me but she was too afraid, she saw something in my eyes that scared her, the beginnings of the madness. She had called one of my paintings crooked, and the figures in it out of proportion. Whilst she had made love to my brother I had gotten my revenge on her car._

"_Sarah what the Hell did you do that for?" Rob snarled._

"_Wasn't me," I answered merrily with a smile._

"_Don't lie!" he snapped at me. They had been preparing to leave when they had seen the damage, Rob had grabbed me tightly by the arm and dragged me out to explain, he had hurt me. "Why did you do this? Are you insane?"_

"_My car cost a fortune bitch," his girlfriend, soon to be ex, chirped up._

_I shrugged. "Wasn't me," I lied again._

_Twenty minutes later father slapped me for the offence and mother grounded me, and Rob ignored me for a week. He was dumped that evening and cursed me for it until the next pretty blonde chatted him up._

"So naughty," I mumbled as I hugged my bloody limbs, "so very naughty, but it was deserved." I felt dizzy; the first burning prickles of the thirst were upon me and growing as more blood leaked from me. Had to hold it in, had to keep it back or I would collapse from thirst. There were no holes in me though, how very strange.

I saw creeping up the hallway, not walking or floating but somehow moving, a creature so disturbed that I wanted to lose my sight and banish it from my mind forever. I heard Bruno gasp in horror as I let loose a torrent of petrified giggles. Black from age or heat I could not tell, covered from head to toe in scars of such a multitude it was a wonder it had any flesh left to hold itself together. It was a demonic imitation of a child, a thing with a body rotting and burnt, half bone and half ruined flesh. I looked for its eyes and found only black holes gaping back at me.

"ONE OF US! SECOND CHILD! REMEMBERS US! KNOWS THE OLD ONES!" The voice screamed through my head, louder than the others and powerful enough to cause my skull to shake, my eyes to water and my nose to bleed. I clutched my skull tightly with both hands and bid it to be silent as it chanted excitedly in a language long dead to me. It was the whisper on the web, now the yeller, the master, the ancient maker.

It came towards me, too swiftly for my eyes to follow and suddenly its ruined hand was touching my brow, pressing into it and forcing me to my knees. I cried then in horror and grief before the laughter came again. '**Deformed in the flesh and the mind. Too mad to know Haqim but you must.**' This voice rattled through my skull, a dry whisper, a deep command, a warcry, it was all these things and more. '**You are more flawed than most, too broken for the Path of Blood. You should be purged. Your masters with you, you will all burn together. Together you will be the example.**'

Thirst. Burning. Screams. Thirst. Howling. Pain. I was blind. I saw red. I was blind. I saw only darkness. I was in the mausoleum of the Giovanni, dying with them as an outsider. I was outside, beneath the stars, hunting, fleeing. I was in the land of stars. I was amongst tall buildings. I was on a beach. I was everywhere and nowhere.

Blood. Blood. Blood. Thirsty, my throat burned, my stomach twisted and writhed in pain. I needed nourishment. I needed to feed. I was exhausted, my body felt heavy, I was too weak to use my disciplines, too weak to break out of my frenzy. I felt flesh gripped tightly in my fingernails, heard pleas in my ears and at last tasted that longed for hot nectar upon my dry lips and swallowed it rapidly.

When I came to my senses I was staggering through Downtown, my body felt like ice, it was raining heavily, my clothes were torn, my right eye now completely blind, and my chin, hands and knees stained with damp blood. I was scared, I was alone and I was exposed. I saw the familiar tower with its tall, thin statues and I hurried forward. There was an ancient on the loose, an old, forgotten beast that wanted to burn me. I could not protect myself, I was deformed, weak and mad, but a Prince, perhaps a Prince could help me. I staggered through the tall doors with a sob, fell onto the cold tiles in relief and exhaustion and crawled further into the building.

Safe? Could we ever be safe in the madness? Nonsense, the only place we're safe is in our minds. I started to sob as I heard voices and sniffed Kindred on the air. I looked up and saw him, proud, golden haired Prince and his fearsome Sheriff. Chunk was blabbering in the background, he must have called down his highness but surely Sebastian was too proud to be beckoned by a lowly guard? Had I asked for him? Had he known I was here? I smiled grimly as his icy eyes fell upon me. "Save me," I begged, "protect me, the box, worse than poor Pandora's. Mercy from the burning, he will burn us all."

Sebastian looked thoughtful as he regarded me carefully. "Sheriff, bring her to my office," he commanded. He turned from me abruptly and I let out a small whimper, after all I had done, would he leave me as coldly as Isaac had? Ah but the Baron never left, twas us that fled from the poets and artists, no longer pretty enough to be their muse.

"It took my blood," I babbled, "it's a nightmare, even amongst the nightmares. I went for you, I did these things for you, majesty protect me."

Sebastian halted and glanced over his shoulder at me curiously. "If you have obeyed you will have my protection," he relented with a heavy sigh before his gaze hardened, "but if you have not, no one can protect you."

I did not resist as the Sheriff hoisted me up with both of his large hands and carried me after Sebastian and into the lift. He stood me upright once inside but kept a firm, heavy grasp upon me. When the lift pinged for the penthouse, he pushed me out, his grip never slackening.

"Let her sit," Sebastian commanded as he walked to the centre of the room, pausing before a blue and gold couch. The Sherriff pushed me over to it and then down onto it. It was soft and plump, a welcome respite from the icy tiles downstairs.

"You have been gone for six nights," Sebastian murmured coolly, "I sent others after you and they found Bruno's house in ruins. No trace of any ancient coffin or box naturally, nothing but a disturbing collection of corpses old and new, not that Bruno was amongst them."

"It's gone," I rasped, "it's gone but it was there, now it will burn what it cannot convert."

Sebastian's frown deepened slightly and I saw a glimmer of unease in his grey-blue gaze. "For two nights there have been reports of killings in the city, in my city. Now the police think it's some crazy person on drugs, that the witness reports of a monster with fangs is nonsense, and they are more likely dealing with someone that thinks themselves a vampire rather than an actual vampire. Of course we know better, killing Kine in public is a grave offence, it is against the Masquerade."

"I know," I mumbled, "but I don't know, I did not do it, I steal blood in the shadows, I do not offend the men in masks." I shuddered and winced as pus leaked from my eye. I was terribly thirsty, and we were talking about feeding after all.

"You are covered in blood," La Croix pointed out calmly.

I looked down at my crimson hands and legs and a growl of hunger escaped me. I licked my left arm briskly and moaned as the thirst only grew with each lick. This was a new form of torture; one none of my voices seemed pleased about. Dangle the carrot on the stick, make the donkey move but never give the treat.

"You can feed later," La Croix snapped in irritation, "explain yourself already! Where have you been for six nights? What did you see? At the moment I do not know what to think of you and I am having my doubts. I do not know if you are bold, stupid or truly mad, if you are loyal or a traitor. If perhaps you have broken the Masquerade, and after I spared you, gave you existence when others would have destroyed you even as you were born into our world. After I forgave your mistakes, and ignored your delays, after I gave you chance after chance."

"What?" I croaked. "I went to the Sabbat for you," I stammered, "I was scarred for you. I am loyal!" No, not to the Prince but to the Baron, misguided loyalty, should have stayed alone. "I went-"

"The witnesses talked," Sebastian murmured, he looked at me woefully, "a babbling, pasty faced girl with dark hair. It could be any one of the Kindred in the city I suppose. Then again, you have come here covered in blood, very reckless, anyone could have seen you. I would ask if you had lost your mind, but your kind is quite unique when it comes to one's mind." He sighed, touched his brow briefly with his left hand and looked to me again, scrutinising me with his grey-blue eyes. "For the moment you will remain here, I will see that you have nourishment and quarters to rest in, a precaution until I can get to the bottom of all this." He turned to his Sheriff and commanded, "Sheriff, see that she is escorted to a suitable resting place."

"Can we not feed together?" I croaked, too puzzled and worried to even attempt playful seduction with the Prince. "Please highness, I went to the Giovanni for you, I found the terrible secret of the box, I am loyal."

"Tomorrow night," he assured, "if I have time. I will reward you for your loyalty, do not worry. I just need time to solve the chaos of this city and then you can tell me about the box. Go now, it is growing late and we all need rest."

I nodded as I stood and felt the Sheriff's shadow upon me. He gripped my right arm tightly in his large hand and began to escort me out.

"I am certain you have done well," Sebastian called after me, "and I have no doubt that I will be pleased with your efforts."

His words give me a little cheer, but it was not enough to shake the horror that clung to me.

The Sheriff led me down, deep beneath the building to rooms and corridors dark, cold and clean, without cameras and only a little lighting from small bulbs hanging behind frosted glass against the walls. There were small rooms, some for rest, some for interrogation and some for prison, all behind windowless walls with a single, heavy door to grant entry. I saw a few Ventrue walking in and out of them, they were purposely ignorant to the Sheriff and I, probably wary of catching the giant's fearsome gaze. He paused outside one of the doors on the right, unlocked it with a key, pushed me inside and then shut it behind me. I heard the lock click and knew that Sebastian feared too, but what? My knowledge? My deeds? My safety? Two voices laughed and scorned at the latter thought as I lay down slowly and miserably upon the single bed sitting against the back wall.

I lay there, trying to be quiet, purposely snubbing the voices, despite the vehement cries of the old one on the web. There was a flash of fire, an image of an undead child, and then I felt my flesh burn. I screamed, shook, lashed out at the walls, kicked, rolled and roared until the dawn sapped my consciousness from me and blissfully ended the burning.

For three nights I remained in the room, fed by a single blood pack of a mediocre vintage pushed through a slot in the door. Ravenous I tore at it and gulped it down, before crying out that Sebastian had promised a shared meal. No one answered me and my thirst remained barely sated.

On the second night I grew fed up of my confines and wondered what Sebastian was waiting to hear. Did he think me traitor? Had someone wrongly accused me? Perhaps a fearful Bruno had come to the Prince for protection, using lies against me to win aid. "He drove me to it!" I shrieked as I grasped at my skull and smacked my head against the walls. "He will burn us! HE WILL BURN US!"

It was a dungeon, one without light, without comfort and without company. I howled, screamed, cried and laughed through the evenings until dawn took me. I did not know why I was here, I did not care. It was out there somewhere, it would come, it would burn.

I awoke confused on the fourth night, the burning thirst returned, my right eye still blind and clogged with pus, my left knee more swollen than usual, stiff and refusing to straighten, and the claws of my right hand, long, sharp and digging into my palm uncomfortably, drawing blood that tormented my nostrils. I was a freak, abandoned by both men I had tried to be fair and loyal to, used and abused like poor Kent. Cast out twice, the pawn had been played and lost.

I found my memories hazy, blurred images of three victims publicly slaughtered and drained by me in Downtown. The police had been called, sirens had buzzed in my ears but the flashing lights had not found me. What a mess for spiteful Sebastian, I hope it caused him grief, let him be caught up in my chaos and blind to the real trouble, ignorant to the ancient I had found for him and tried to warn him off. Let it be his punishment, let him burn for his crimes but not me. Not us. "So close," a voice babbled down the web, "I felt it, I remembered. I was older. Am older. More powerful." I groaned and shut it out.

After several hours, I could only guess at how many, a crack of greyed light appeared as my door was slowly opened. Two male Ventrue came in, picked me up and roughly carried me out between them. My hands and feet were chained together before they lifted me out, perhaps they thought me vicious, perhaps I was. I snarled at them moodily until we entered a lift, then I hummed along jovially to the music until we reached the Penthouse floor and I was bundled out and into Sebastian's large, luminous office.

I had given him the relic, I had trusted him to be kind to me when Isaac had not, to overlook my flaws and appreciate my worth. It seemed I had no worth anymore. I was ugly, weak and unfortunate, spurned and loathed by all I went near save dearest Rob and fond, odd Romero. Perhaps an end to my existence was for the best. Yes, let the voices finally be silenced and the thirst ended, let me have that peace denied to all Kindred. Why had he imprisoned me? Why no reward for my services?

I looked up to him accusingly and tensed in surprise. Sebastian had more than one companion.

"Leave us," the blonde commanded with a careless wave to the Ventrue.

They nodded before exiting swiftly. Sebastian then faced me with an apologetic expression. "Forgive me but you have been well...quite wild the past few nights and I feared you hurting my guards or yourself," he explained. "It is why I kept you confined you must understand, you have not been yourself and your kind is unpredictable at best, so I had to take precautions."

I shrugged and turned to his silent companion, a broody, all too familiar male standing awkwardly to one side, clad in black, handsome as ever with those soft, grey eyes filled with unease. Sebastian turned to him too and queried, "is this her then?"

Kent Alan Ryan, friend, foe, would be brother and constant traitor, nodded. "Yes, my...sister, Sarah."

"I thought you only had one sister," Sebastian mused, "I suppose that was my error."

Kent grimaced at the reminder and I saw a flash of hate in his stare. I marvelled at how he held back his rage and wondered the why of it. The poet could be murdered here, found out as an Anarch and executed for it, he was foolish coming alone. And what of his shattered heart? How could he face the one who had toyed with it so cruelly? "Abbey," he muttered, "Sarah is...was a year older, she disappeared. I thought...we all thought...then I heard rumours and I saw her, a Malkavian. I couldn't believe it, couldn't deal with it either but then I realised I had a second chance to at least have one sister back again so I had to take it."

"It is strange how some people can come back from the dead," Sebastian spoke up bitingly as he smiled snidely at Kent. "I thought you were dead, I thought the Sabbat had destroyed you, one of my finest workers. I did grieve for you, and now I see it was vain."

"Well when the troops didn't come," Kent grumbled, "I realised I would have to help myself. Since no help was on the way the Sabbat relaxed with their guard and I saw an opportunity and took it."

"You know I couldn't have risked so many for you," Sebastian murmured apologetically, "I wanted to of course, you were so useful, but in the end I realised it would be a bad decision."

"Of course," Kent grumbled, far too restrained for my liking. Where was fiery, no nonsense, kick the crap out of the snaky Prince, Kent?

Sebastian turned back to me at long last, perhaps realising that my chains were starting to itch. "Ariadne, or is it Sarah? Do you recognise your brother? I know it is hard for you Malkavians to sort out one persona from another but he has gone to such effort to find you."

I looked to Kent with what I hoped was a merry and shocked expression, yes I got the game and I did so love to act, one day Isaac would see my potential and allow me in a movie. "Big brother Kent, he used to steal my toys and lock me in the cupboard!" I squealed happily.

Kent grumbled a curse whilst Sebastian twitched slightly and clasped his hands behind his back. "So you are related then, or at least you were in life," he murmured.

"Yes," Kent spoke up hastily. "Now, might her chains be removed? They seem unnecessary for one in your service."

Sebastian cocked his head slightly to face Kent and grinned at him. "As I said, I am apologetic for her state, and most guilty over it, but she was turning violent and needed restrained. It was as much for her own good as anyone else's."

"I'm calm now," I insisted, "and I will be calm for big brother, still, quiet and good, just like mother asked."

Sebastian turned to the Sheriff at last and ordered, "Sheriff, remove her chains."

He came towards me, quiet despite his size, produced a ring of keys from within the folds of his long coat and unlocked the claps that held the chains about my wrists. As he leaned down to unfasten the chains at my feet I saw Sebastian grasp Kent's chin suddenly and turn him to face him. "Tell me," he commanded in a tone I was only too familiar with, "if you missed me, if you missed being my dog, tell me why you did not come to me. Tell me where you were hiding."

Kent shuddered and closed his eyes briefly as he tried to fight the Domination. "I am free now Kent!" I cried out as my feet came free. I waved both my hands rapidly and called out, "we can get ice-cream now!"

He whipped his head round to look at me; his grey eyes filled with distress, and then glowered back at Sebastian before taking a deliberate step away from him. "Let's go," he murmured.

"It's not so easy alas," Sebastian commented sadly, "Ariadne is indispensable to me and I still have not got her reports on a recent mission. You may talk here with her all you want Kent but she cannot leave until our business is finished."

"I would rather my reunion with her was private," Kent murmured. "She will return to you soon, she is loyal to you after all."

"Indeed," I enthused. "We shall not go far and I do have many words for the princely ears only, of the battered box."

Sebastian's lip curled up slightly as he considered a protest. If he argued too much it would become obvious that I was a prisoner to him and not a friend, not a very diplomatic manoeuvre and not a way to earn truths from me, yet if he let me go...

"She's a Malkavian," Kent reminded him, "though I am sad to say it about my own sister, how reliable can she be? Loyal certainly but they rant madness whether they can help it or not." He turned back to Sebastian, risking his gaze and pleaded, "Please, grant me some privacy with my remaining sister. I thought her dead with Abbey and gone to me, let me have this much Sebastian." I knew it was burning him inside to beg the Prince but it was a good ploy, Sebastian liked to at least appear generous. Yet it was a gamble, there was no audience for the Prince to impress save myself and the Sheriff.

"I will tell how you reunited us," I chirped up happily, "a kind highness who even during troubled times finds a chance to grant miracles to his subjects, reuniting lost siblings in the chaos." Ah it was a good deception; I hoped poor Rob would not be offended to be temporarily usurped by Kent.

Sebastian frowned before forcing a smile to his face and nodding. "Of course, you have been parted for a while and it is cruel to delay your reunion. Still, it is dangerous out there, for both of you, you must not go far, and you must take a guard. Yes, with all the trouble, I must insist, it is the least I can do for you. I will call four of my most trusted guards to accompany you."

He smiled once more at Kent before stepping to his desk and pressing the intercom. "Cheryl," he addressed his secretary, "please send Bartholomew, Rodger, Grant and Harrison up, I have a job for them."

"At once," came the retort.

"Now we need not concern ourselves with further disappearances," Sebastian said to us both.

Kent nodded uneasily whilst I grinned.

Ten minutes later the four Kindred arrived, all of them tough and tall looking, formidable foes though nothing compared to Andrei and his brood. Two were Ventrue, both blonde and blue eyed, and two were Toreador, one copper haired and the other dirty fair, both chosen purposely so Kent could not use his Celerity so easily. They accompanied us into the lift and then outside to the noisy streets of Downtown, two in front of us and two behind. They were no more subtle than a singing cat at a dog show.

I thought it would be a challenge to lose them and I felt Kent, unusually quiet, might have felt the same. He directed us up the street, down an alleyway, round several corners and down several streets, distracted and nervous, I thought he had no plan. Then the boom came.

It was a minor explosion from our left that blew chunks through a heavy brick wall belonging to a closed shop. It was enough though; enough to cause a panic amongst our guards, enough to give Kent a chance to pick me up and flee.

I was carried in a blur, down a narrow alleyway, round a corner, down another street at a less attention grabbing pace, and finally outside to an alleyway where a familiar, beret wearing redhead looked at me scornfully before raising a walkie-talkie to her red lips. "He's out," she snapped into it, "let's fall back." She lowered the walkie-talkie and glowered at me once more. "Hope you're worth the fucking trouble," she snarled, "though I doubt it. Luckily we planned several points of rescue," she grumbled, "you really took your time getting out of his royal arsehole's palace."

"Damn sail," I murmured happily as I leaned back against Kent, "take me to calmer seas. Ah the thirst is burning, take me to pirates I can bite." I could not believe the Toreador had dared to touch me or lift me so swiftly, had panic overrode disgust? Was this willingness to touch me only temporary?

"Fucking nut job," she cursed before leading out to a busy road and over to a parked, battered blue car. I was bustled into the back and only when the car started to drive was I able to look at dearest, misguided, foolish and wonderful Kent.

He regarded me carefully with guilty grey eyes; he was uncertain, worried and yes, still disgusted. I saw his hands twitch, they were gloved, was it enough protection from my deformities? "Why?" I wondered aloud.

"Ah kid," he murmured, "who would I build sandcastles with if I let that fuck keep you?"

I laughed and laughed until the tears returned and then I cried, bitterly and fearfully. There was a monster in the night, a bogeyman for the Kindred. I had killed Samantha. I had angered Rob. I had betrayed Isaac and been betrayed by him. I had been spurned by every friend I had. I had suffered scars and deformities, and encountered an ancient who had taken my blood, poisoned my mind and driven me into a burning thirst, and my thanks for all this? Mistrust and imprisonment, and a risk of being silenced forever. The voices whispered of the paranoid Prince's intentions, couldn't have me blabbing, could only play the 'she's insane' card for so long. What did I have to do to earn friends and affection? What did any of it matter now that the ancient was awake? We were all going to burn; poor Kent, loving Rob, dearest Isaac and kind, strange Romero were going to become ash.

I felt Kent reach for me, hesitantly and pull me into a tense hug. He said nothing and released me quickly, shrinking back against his door and staring pointedly out the window. I still revolted him but he was trying.


	31. Chapter 31

Our driver left us on the outskirts of town and we entered an abandoned warehouse sandwiched between a derelict cinema and a dodgy looking bar. Kent led the way into a room, dark, dusty and falling apart, its main features were cracked light bulbs and a large staircase missing several steps. "Come on," Kent murmured, "Nines and the others are up here. We can hide out here for a bit."

"Til the Prince stops looking," I mused as I followed him up, "but his paranoia will keep the eyes staring." I felt my knee give way as I tried to jump over a gap and instead started to fall ungracefully towards the hole. Kent seized me, quick as ever, before I could collide with wood and shower us in splinters. He glanced down at my furry right hand, which had torn through his glove and immediately pushed me into the wall and continued walking.

I hobbled after him, taking care to lean against the wall and using the banister to hoist myself over the gaps. My leg continued to throb and I thought Kent might escape me but he moved slowly though he never looked back. I wondered if he, Isaac or any of the others would ever get over their Toreador prejudices. If not, then why had Kent come for me?

We reached the top floor, a dimly lit room with a couple of wooden chairs, a single, wonky table and a few discarded boxes in it, and several familiar Kindred. I sensed the punch too late, thirst and confusion had made me sloppy. I was reeling backwards but before I could even hit the floor the kicks came, to the ribs, to the back.

"Fuck Nines!" Kent protested. I glanced his way as I rolled from the blows and tried to lash back, but the Brujah had that accursed Celerity and moved too quick for me. I saw Kent seized by an unknown Brujah and Helter Skelter. So he was not a traitor to me once more, well at least that Groundhog Day was over.

Nines stopped his beating as swiftly as he had begun and I sat up hesitantly, regarding him warily. "That's just a taste Malk," he addressed me. "I don't like to beat on others but for the greater good, so to speak, I will. Now you've been trading and holding information as it suits you between that fuck La Croix and Isaac, but there's no more time for your games. I didn't help Kent rescue you out of the goodness of my heart, I want answers. What did La Croix have you chasing up with the Giovanni? What did you find and who else is involved? The Kuei-jin? The Sabbat?"

I grinned back at him, he was not Isaac or the Prince, he was a brutal, misguided thug, he wanted to help the downtrodden but he would not commit to being their champion. Why should he have answers? Would he even believe them? No, he wasn't mad enough, logic was this Kindred's way, he had no fear of the burning bogeyman. "What's happened?" I wondered. "I've been away for a few days, the Prince's guest."

"Guest?" Nines sneered as he folded his arms and spared a glance at the struggling, cursing Kent. "Kent are you hearing this? She was his guest, not his prisoner, look I get it, you miss Abbey, but shit, this Malk isn't her and she's only causing trouble for you."

"He had her in chains!" Kent snarled angrily. "She was his prisoner, and you know that, the cop told Damsel, the Sheriff took her away! And I know she's not Abbey, alright!"

"Do you?" Nines shot back. "Your sister was mad-"

"Not like her!" Kent spat out. "Fuck Nines just stop it! Isaac loves her, and La Croix was probably going to execute her, even if she's too mad to know it."

"No," Nines argued coolly as he returned his frosty blue stare on me. "He wouldn't hesitate if he wanted to kill her, not when he had her in his grasp, he's too paranoid to keep threats he can deal with around. No, she knows something, something he doesn't want anyone but him hearing. Now, what is it Malk? You've got one chance to sort out your voices and tell me."

I giggled and thrust some Hysteria Nines way, of course I did not have the strength to crack his iron will. It was a mistake, but it was worth it to see the outrage in his eyes. Why should I help him? Why help any of them? What had they done to earn it? Best stick with the voices. Nines came for me again, I lashed out in retort but he was bigger, faster and had Potence to make his attacks hurt that little bit more. I used my clawed hand to try and strike out at his eyes but I barely grazed his chin before his boot slammed up my jaw.

"Not telling! Not telling!" I taunted as my ribs cracked beneath his other boot. I tried to drive him into madness as I went for him with a scream and started gnawing at his leg with my fangs. He grabbed me with both hands and flung me into the wall.

"If you don't tell me you won't tell anyone," Nines warned me, "you're too dangerous to keep around." He took out a gun and fired, one shot to the gut, but the second I dodged. Bullets don't kill Kindred unless you nail them with enough of them but damn they still hurt like Hell. I wished I had my sword but the Sheriff had taken it, as if his gigantic blade wasn't enough, greedy bastard.

"Stop it!" Kent protested. "Fuck Nines she didn't tell him and she's not going to!"

Nines ignored him, probably just as well, the Prince might still be my only potential ally despite the hurts he had done me. Who else did I have to shield me from the burning? Alone I was not strong enough, I needed a Prince or Baron to help me, or an elder, was there any, other than the crier on the web? An antediluvian to fight the ancient beast coming for us all. "We will burn!" I hissed. "We will burn!"

He came at me again, fists, feet and more whizzing bullets. BANG! BANG! My eye was leaking, I could not see properly, my knee was sinking, and putting me off balance. I was useless! I had no speed, no strength! Still I tried as a bullet tore my left cheek apart. I sent out hallucinations and cackled with them. Another bullet cut through my already deformed knee and I hit the floor.

"You're too fucking mad," Nines cursed. "I am sorry Malk, I wish it could be different but you're too much of a risk."

"Enough of the beating Nines," Jack called out in his ever mocking voice, "she's not going to tell you anything, probably too mad to even know what it is she's meant to know." He laughed harshly at that.

"We're all going to burn," I sang out, "and blaze, and rot!" I laughed as I forced myself to my feet again. "But why should you be warned? Why should any of you? What have you done for me? Always mistrusting, you won't believe the truth of me whether it's truth or not! I should tell the Prince! Maybe I wasn't imprisoned, just protected!" Oh how I wanted that to be the truth, shielded out of paranoia not hate. I had had enough of revulsion and hate, the Toreadors had given me their fill of it.

I saw Nines raise his gun once more, ready to send another bullet into my lifeless heart. I was too weak now; it would turn me to ash. "I WANTED TO HELP THE ANARCHS! I screeched. "I WANTED TO BELONG! BUT NO ONE WOULD HAVE ME! ONLY THE PRINCE! HE IS NOT DISGUSTED BY MY DEFORMITIES! HE TRUSTS ME! HE SEES MY WORTH! HE DOES! HE DOES!" I grasped at my hair with both hands and pulled it hard until the blood started seeping down my skull. "MY UGLINESS DOES NOT BOTHER HIM! BUT ISAAC ABANDONED ME FOR IT! I WOULD HAVE HELPED HIM! I WOULD HAVE SHARED!" I screamed. "BUT NO ONE BELIEVES THE TONGUE OF A MALKAVIAN!"

BANG!

I flinched, expecting my body to burn anew and only when it didn't did I dare to look. Kent had broken free and pushed Nines' hand into the air. He broke from the Brujah and turned to me with a wild look. "Get out of here!" he snapped.

"Traitor!" The Brujah who had held him cursed at him.

Chaos broke out once more. A Gangrel, Skelter and the Brujah leaped for Kent whilst Nines came for me. Jack stayed out of the ruckus, just as well as I suspected he could rip me apart quicker than Nines. I hurried for the stairs, hesitating when I heard Kent's woeful scream. I turned back and saw his skin being torn from him, he tried to move but three foes were too many for him. His clothes were turning to blood soaked rags, the Gangrel's claws were tearing at his face. Kent had turned coats for the last time.

I could not leave him; he had tried to help me, friend, foe and would be brother. I could not see him perish. I went back to him but Nines blocked me, ready to fire that gun again and end me once and for all. "AN ANCIENT!" I screamed. "THAT'S THE SECRET!"

Nines hesitated and looked at me with a cold curiosity.

"Let Kent go," I begged, "let him go." He was still screaming but his throat was becoming clogged with blood and I knew he was weakening.

Nines' eyes widened in surprise and he glanced sharply over his shoulder. "Leave Kent alone!" he snapped. "He's still one of us even if this Malk has clouded his judgement!"

Obediently, though with a few protesting snarls and glowers, the Anarchs backed from their own, though the Brujah made a point of spitting on Kent's bloodied face. I watched in pity as Kent immediately rubbed at his face with an anxious groan, still vain even in pain, still desperately afraid of dirt and germs, the curse of the Toreador.

Nines let out a grunt before lowering his gun. "I shouldn't have done things this way," he muttered, "I just assumed you were trying to betray us," he grumbled at me. "That you were only La Croix's boot licker and you were trying to get close to Isaac to get information. But you do care, don't you? Somewhere in your madness you love Kent and Isaac." He had gone too far, become like his enemies, hurting his own, it was not the Anarch way, or so they claimed. Camarilla, Anarchs, Sabbat, how could any of them call me mad?

I nodded. "I do," I admitted, "but they would not have me after the crafter played remodelling with me. The Prince took me in; he had faith in me when they had none."

"We drove you to him," Kent choked out. "I tried to warn you...but fuck it was me pushing you to him, I and Isaac...shit. Shows what assholes we were...if you had..." He winced. "Had to go to him." I looked to him as he spat blood onto his ruined shirt and gave a groan of annoyance before he rubbed at it feebly with one hand. "Shit, shit, shit," he cursed as he rubbed furiously with both hands.

"Makes sense," Jack commented dryly, "well as much sense as things make in this place." He laughed again, deep and tauntingly. "You can't blame her Nines, you didn't trust her."

"I still don't," Nines muttered, "but I get that maybe it's just insanity and not intentional treachery. Well look Malk, time to pick a side. Tell me what La Croix had you chasing."

I smirked at him acrimoniously. "You still won't believe me; think it madness causing lies or lies caused by madness. I went for the box, wasn't locked, something else opened from within. A boy but not a boy, a demon, bloodsucker, war wielder, doting priest. He spoke of Haqim and burning, purging, he comes to convert and martyr those he cannot. If I am madness he is war."

"What are you babbling about?" Nines demanded.

"She went to a dd...den of Sabbat to get a relic...for Seb-La Croix," Kent muttered, "the key, remember?"

"Yes," Nines retorted carefully, "so against the odds you got the key and stupidly gave it to his highness."

"For the wolf's studies," I commented brightly. "Twas a key to a relic to a map to a stolen coffin. Ah the Giovanni, gluttony is their vice, drink the blood for the power, couldn't resist, fools. They stole the box before his highness could and..." Burning. I shrieked as I felt my flesh begin to blaze, first an irritation of heat but then a torturous blast of fire. I swatted at myself, fell to the floor, rolled and screamed. "Burn! We will burn! BLAZE! BURN! ROT!"

"This again," I heard Nines comment wearily through my shrieks. "So La Croix thought to get himself an ancient's coffin, but the Giovanni beat him to it. Well it would only be a threat if it's true."

"Nines man," Skelter spoke up, "the ancients, we're all chained to them; it's some powerful shit and she... The way she's been talking, about burning and purging, what if there was an ancient in the coffin?"

"Gone now!" I snapped as I paused to grin at Skelter. "Free! Out to purge and burn!" I laughed wildly as the burning ceased, to be replaced by a thrill of fear instead. "Makes the flesh burn in the mind but soon for real. Poisons the blood. The Kine taste like ash, the blood boils beneath the skin!"

"Blood," Kent murmured wearily, "there's an idea."

Nines glanced back at him and I saw him tense slightly, guilty Anarch, let his own be beat, not much better than the Prince he loathed. Two sides of one coin, Kent could never choose right, both hurt him in the end. "You can't feed like that."

We all looked to the stairs keenly as the presence of a Kindred interrupted our wonderfully awkward scene. Heavy boots clomping up the fragile wood, no sense of subtly, had to be an ally or a very cocky foe. A familiar, furious faced redhead appeared at the top of the stairs, dearest den mother Damsel. "The Cammy fucks are hunting," she greeted us as she glanced about warily. "What the Hell happened here?" she then exclaimed as she took in mine and Kent's beaten states. "Shit I thought we were helping these two, change of plan? Should we throw the Cammy bitch to the Ventrue sniffers?"

"No Damsel," Nines retorted firmly. "How close are the Camarilla?"

"They are circling Downtown, searching everywhere; his royal dickness must want her bad." She looked at me moodily with curious pale eyes. "What do you have that he values?" she demanded.

Kent staggered to his feet with a grunt and limped over to us. "We need to get out of here," he muttered.

"Go back to Hollywood," Nines ordered, "Isaac will be able to protect you."

Was the Baron strong enough to stop the burning? Would he? No, I disgusted him. I shook my head. "He will not help ugly things," I said frostily.

"Ariadne," Kent addressed me softly with a wince, "I know you're hurting...and I know we caused that but please..." He grasped at his right side and swallowed down a mouthful of blood. "La Croix will make you his prisoner then...then he'll learn what he wants to and get rid of you. It's what he does." I saw hurt shining in his grey eyes, his reunion with the Prince had been difficult, for all his hate he still had fondness too.

"And what did Isaac do?" I queried calmly. "He got rid of me." Oh but we left, remember? But it was forced, made to feel most unwelcome, the ugly guest, the mutated thorn in the side.

"You wanna get killed by the Prince, fine, I say go ahead," Damsel snapped, "but do it quick, before those Cammy fucks cause trouble for all of us."

I nodded and started limping for the stairs. I then felt Nines' hand clamping down on me. "Yeah Malk I sympathise, I really do, but I'm still not letting you waltz back to La Croix in case there's something more to tell him that you haven't told us. Everyone come on, we're getting these two out of here."

I would have protested but my wounds bid me to be silence and one of the more sensible voices reminded me that Nines had speed I could not hope to beat. So I allowed Nines to escort me down the rickety steps and outside.

We had to move swiftly, I aided or rather forced by the number man, as we ducked down alleyways and hurried up open streets. Twice we spotted a small cluster of hunting Ventrue, the third time a group of Toreador and Ventrue spotted us and Damsel and two Brujah were forced to confront and distract them. We passed several taxis but it was clear they would query mine and Kent's state too much, and just as we began to despair there was the familiar yellow bug, ready to scuttle us towards destiny. Nines bundled me in the back without a word and gave the driver an order as Kent slid in on the other side, taking care to keep a gap between us. Once we were in, the taxi immediately speeded off and I sagged in exhaustion and thirst.

It seemed an age before we reached the familiar sordid streets of Hollywood and when we did I saw that the sky was dangerously close to lightening. When I opened my door all I could smell was the blood, there were too many Kine, left, right, up, down, blood, blood, blood!

"Hold it together," Kent growled in my ear, oddly feral for a Toreador. I glanced up at him and saw his irises tinged with red, he was as close to our murderous side as me. He gestured loosely ahead to Isaac's suspiciously never open jewellery shop and I limped down the alleyway to the glittering side entrance. I reached for the door with my gnarled furry hand and instead slumped against it in despair; I was too hideous to be granted entry here.

Kent reached over me and knocked loudly. A minute later a moody firespawn answered with a scowl. "Oh joy you have returned," he greeted us both sardonically, "and in a lovely state too."

"Not ended it with a bang yet?" Kent retorted jarringly as he pushed me in.

Ash leaned back from me with a look of revulsion and an obvious shudder before turning a hostile look to Kent. "I expect the insults from the failed artist but I thought you had better taste."

"Sorry, I'm too hungry to have tolerance," Kent growled out.

I tensed up when the door to the living dead room opened and the golden eyed Baron stepped out. Was I welcome? Was he happy? Tolerant? Angry? Was I? I hated him for spurning me and hated myselves for our hideous outer appearance. Yet, the Baron made the yelling, groaning, whispering and muttering quiet, with him there was a slight peace. With him there was safety.

"Ash," Isaac commanded firmly, "procure blood for these two quickly."

"I'm not an errand boy," Ash protested instantly.

"Now!" Isaac snapped back.

I relished the look of shock of pretty dead phoenix's face before the usual miserable scowl returned and he scurried off.

I looked back to Isaac and saw him smudged in a faint light, the sight was ensnaring and terrifying all at once and I could not look away. "You will feed when Ash returns," he addressed us in a serious voice, "and then explain what happened. In the meantime, be still and control yourselves."

I was frozen in immediate obedience, it was something akin to Dominate and yet not quite the same, I followed not because of his voice but because of him, for a moment his whole being sent shivers of fear and awe through me. We were tense for what seemed like hours but was most likely minutes, Isaac remained throughout it watching us carefully and quietly. I sank slightly to one side in pain whilst Kent panted and muttered to himself. When Ash returned all I smelled was the blood.

We attacked like animals, two lions reaching for the zebra, wisely Ash threw the blood packs at us and we were quick to tear them apart. I swallowed mine in one long gulp, not pausing to savour, just needing that familiar tang. Though it was not as pleasant as usual the frenzying began to curb when Ash tossed me another pack and I devoured it too.

"Finest vitae from VV's stash," Ash grumbled, "she wasn't happy about giving it."

"But you were happy to take it," I mused, "better hers than yours. Besides, the snakes steal yours anyway." I licked my lips joyfully and whipped my head round to see if Kent had leftovers, but sadly not.

"Now, what happened?" Isaac demanded.

I let Kent explain what he could, too weary to even try. It was only when Isaac's curious stare fell on me and he queried, "what of this coffin Ariadne?" That I was forced to speak.

"An ancient," I muttered, "a burned boy who will burn, he was in the house. He will purge and burn, make examples of us all. That is what I know and now you do too, though you deserve nothing."

Isaac flinched at the accusation and sighed mournfully. "Your ruination broke my heart," he murmured. "What they did to you...your eye, your hand, your leg, it's too much. I am sorry, so sorry that our time together is tarnished by it, that you too are hurt by it and isolated for it."

"The Prince did not isolate me for it," I interrupted tartly. Oh a half-truth, naughty naughty, had us in the dungeon, all alone, well all of us alone, no one outside the web.

"No but he did isolate you because of what you knew," Kent growled out. "The only reason he didn't execute you is because you hadn't told him about this coffin yet."

"Can an ancient really be among us?" Isaac pondered aloud. "I'm not one for superstitions but if one is it must mean something."

"The Italian masters stole it and woke it," I murmured.

"So it got disturbed from its slumber and is cranky now," Kent grumbled, "awesome. Does it have to mean more than that Isaac? Is that not dangerous enough?"

"If it's true," Ash was swift to sneer. I looked his way and he gave me a condescending stare in return as he folded his arms. "This is coming from someone who thinks there are unicorns, goblins, phoenixes, dwarves and other nonsense everywhere."

"IT BURNS!" I shrieked at him angrily. How dare he disbelieve, the non-believers would be sacrificed first on the pyre. "AND HAS BEEN BURNED! THERE WILL BE A PURGING!"

"Ariadne!" Isaac snapped in annoyance. I purposely avoided the Baron's golden gaze though I felt his heated stare upon me. "We must consider all possibilities," he mused, "and pay special attention to the news for signs of anything amiss. Tomorrow evening though, dawn is fast approaching and you two need your strength back," he addressed Kent and I. "We will all retreat for the morning."

"Where?" I queried savagely. Was the Baron's cold bed still banned to me?

He sighed heavily before Kent spoke up to rescue him from an awkward silence. "I have an apartment nearby but we must go now and be quick." He glanced back to Isaac who nodded solemnly. "Goodbye," he murmured.

"Until this evening," Isaac retorted calmly.

Ash left first without a word, hurrying out as fast as he could without drawing unnecessary attention to himself. Kent looked to me to leave next and so I did with a purposely angry final stare Isaac's way. Once outside we found the sky a worrying shade of pink and lilac and Kent was brisk in leading the way to his apartment. It was not far, though my limping made it seem much farther and caused Kent to give me several glowers, a grunt of impatience and then a pointed stare at the sky. Still he did not offer to assist me and shuddered once when he saw my eye leaking again.

The apartment was in the same block as an infamous model who had some interesting fetishes, a semi-successful script writer, and an aspiring B actress who got her breasts out for several low budgeted horror films. Kent gave a sigh of relief when we made it through his door and into safety. "Look er..." He looked to me awkwardly, his grey gaze lingering too long on my furred hand. "There's only one bed," he confessed.

"The couch may grant me a sweet sleep providing there are no peas," I assured him, too tired to protest or argue. Kent had saved me, Kent had seen his cruel Prince for me, Kent has risked death, I had to be kind, couldn't bear a grudge, though his vain disgust was most unfair.

"Well...That's not what I was going to say," he lied, "but...well it's king sized, so maybe if we...keep our space, it'll be alright."

"You always poke and prod when we are close," I scolded, "for a non-painful slumber you shall have your space." I grinned happily; Kent would not shun me like Isaac, Kent would have me near so long as we were without contact. Well chaste we would be, as innocent as Snow and her seven miniature men.

"Right, good," Kent muttered, "come on then." He led the way through his tasteful living room, naturally large and spacious, decorated with a bookshelf and glass holding globe to impress, as well as glowing tank of fishes, paintings of what was deemed modern art though I found it a rather pointless mixture of shapes and colours, and the finest furniture. The bedroom was plainer; there was a wardrobe of deep reddish-brown and a large, wide bed with a duvet, a soft cover of tarnished gold, six cushions and four pillows, all a deep red or gold in colour. Kent lay down on the right side, close to the edge but still sprawled out and I obediently took the other side, curling into myself and trying to grant the Toreador as much space as I could. I could feel his unease and wondered if he felt my sorrow just as easily, I wanted Isaac's cold, comforting arms or even Romero's tough embrace.


	32. Chapter 32

I awoke to find one eye curiously closed over and unwilling to open. I sat up and pawed at it and my nails came away with crusted pus. "Oh God," Kent stammered from one side of me, before vanishing with his ever useful Toreador speed. Next I heard the muffled sound of vomiting coming from what I assumed was the bathroom and I frowned. Wasn't my fault one eye was no longer like the other.

I rubbed at it roughly until the pus finally broke free and my vision was returned, though somewhat distorted. I stood up, thirsty, annoyed and anxious to leave the judgemental asshole. Now, now, let's be friends, he let you stay, he even shared the bed, not like him to share. Well, the voices were right as usual I supposed, Kent had been kind even if he had done it in an asshole manner. Still, I was very thirsty. I headed through his luxurious bedroom, jumping and turning to the front door when it knocked. How peculiar, was this how the doors talked? I grinned back jovially and rapped my knuckle upon a posh looking, wooden table. Was it one knock for hello or two? I gave two.

"Hello? Master?" The nervous queries of the fiery haired ghoul! Ah was the door now master? No, she must be looking for the three named poet, was the nasty door telling her to leave then? I hurried forward, wincing slightly as my leg buckled slightly with the effort, grasped the handle and turned.

"Open now, hostile door!" I commanded. The door, meek in my presence, swung open bringing young, ample breasted and sweet blooded Heather into my vision. "Raven writer!" I greeted merrily. Bump, bump, bump. Her heart beat faster in my presence, anxious Ghoul, delicious Ghoul, yes I was thirsty. I had been burned, the blood had been poisoned, so thirsty, then imprisoned, barely fed, then bleeding, thirsty again and burning until I had returned to the starry land. Still, two packets of aged vitae had not been enough, needed something fresher and warmer.

"Heather," Kent greeted from behind me before clamping a hand upon my right shoulder and pulling me back. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you master," she explained, bewildered and yet in awe. She sighed dreamily and I frowned once more, the doting slave could have been mine if the crypt keeper had not interfered. "My master," she murmured softly, "I missed you, make me feel the way you did, please," she begged, "let me have a taste, and see the sparks."

"I could make you see sparks," I offered, "I see them all the time, red, purple and turquoise." I tried to step forward but Kent, ever the spoilsport, pushed me back.

"The only Ghoul you're feeding on is that eccentric zombie shooter," he commented sternly. "Beautiful Heather," he addressed her tenderly, "I will give you what you want but first excuse Ariadne." He glanced back at me pointedly with his gentle grey eyes and shuddered.

"Ah the beast has worn out its welcome," I lamented coldly.

"No," he protested, "but if I give her my blood in front of you it's only going to make your thirst worse, you should curb it before you frenzy. Go and find someone to feed on but be subtle about it, and I will see you at Isaac's."

"Always the Pinocchio," I commented sorrowfully before stepping past Heather.

Outside Hollywood was as busy as ever, the usual riffraff, locals, wannabes, real Bs, and a few Cs mixed with eager slutty party goers. Ah so many varieties to chose from, how could I limit myself? Yet I had to be subtle, had to behave, do it quick. Seduce? No, she's looking at your claw, he's looking at your eye, everyone's looking. I scowled back hatefully, I was the freak again, the deformed, misshapen tragedy. I shook my head, can't think like that, father always said buck up, back in the saddle, yes, let's ride this unicorn. I drifted up the streets to the Sin Bin, could always find someone lingering outside there, down the stairs, lower ground, in the shelter by the seedy door. Yes, always a pervert or two, drunk, stinking of smoke but full of blood. I spied one, a balding, round faced man, he sensed my descent and looked up, first cautiously then excitedly. Yes, see only the woman, not the freak; see the fair skin, the youthful looks, not the claw, nor the eye or the swollen knee.

I did not bother with seduction, I failed at it with Christopher and the humiliation of that still tore through me. I just smiled brightly, let him lean to me and plant a sloppy, beer soaked kiss upon my cheek before my fangs met his neck. He groaned and moaned as they all did while I sucked, greedily pulling at as much blood as I could.

My flesh was burning! The fire raged over me without warning, melted my skin, charred my bones and fried my skull! I screeched in pain, grasped at my body with my hands and wailed. Burning, blazing, I was an inferno! I was bleeding, it was leaking out of me, it was escaping! No, I was dying! Permanent this time! No! "NO! NO! NO!" I jerked back from my babbling victim, had to find the Baron, he would make it better, he had to! He could not spurn me again, not again! I staggered up the steps, the burning was ceasing, a dull throb now, flicker of heat against the limbs, bearable but irritable. Ah he was there in our minds, the scarred child, he was there, the voice on the web called to him, he would come, he would purge!

Butter the bread men, butter them good, shan't do to eat them without! Down the familiar seeded streets, past the usual groups of glittering, gleaming tramps and trollops, the pretty hangers on, drug users and abusers loitering near The Asp Hole, all wanting to seduce and change the broody fallen star within. He would burn too, we would all burn together! Out with the bad, yes spit it out, hurl it out, paint the road carmine with the tasty poison. I retched with a painful gasp and heard a cry of alarm from behind me.

"Are you alright? Fuck that's blood! Do you need an ambulance?"

I glimpsed concerned eyes of brown that filled with a small flash of horror when they saw my pallid face but there was no disgust there. A nice Kine at last, pity I had no time for him, no the grains are falling down the glass, the burning is spreading. I hurried past him and continued on.

I reached the jewellers at last, once my home, now only a reminder of all that was lost. I stumbled in and met Romero and dear mad Alex. "Where's the Baron?" I choked out.

Alex grimaced slightly and glanced over to Romero. "Welcome back," my beloved redhead greeted gently, "it's been a while."

I nodded, couldn't be rude but had to be, never learned manners did you? "Where is Isaac?" I asked as I grasped my hair with both hands and shook. Better now, the blood was working, yes, satisfying the thirst, the burn was gone, twas all but a nightmare, yes, it was night after all. Ah but no, most of the blood was gone, just a temporary fix at best, let too much out, didn't keep enough in. A horrid, deceptive contradiction! Bad girl, why did you throw up dinner?

"Ariadne," Alex addressed me calmly, "Isaac is next door, dealing with business."

"Or avoiding her," Romero spoke up gruffly.

Alex glanced back at him and then smiled kindly at me as he stepped forward and reached out a hand to me, taking my still normal one in it. "You were gone a while," he mused, "we were all worried."

"The Baron wasn't," I grumbled, "I'm already dead and gone to him, he avoids only a ghost."

"That's not true," Alex argued sternly, "Isaac is ruled by his emotions, it is the curse of the Toreador, we are vain yes but loving too, it can be a cruel combination. He loves you still and always will but what you have suffered and continue to suffer, it hurts him too much to see."

"It hurts me to bear it," I retorted childishly, "hurts without him, burns inside, it's burning now. Where's the Baron? He makes it stop." I jerked back from Alex and clutched my head as sparks danced there. "Makes it stop! MAKE IT STOP!"

I screamed as flames licked inside my skull and tried to break free from Alex's sudden, secure grasp but Alex's grasp was tight. For a moment we whirled across the room together as I tried to lash out at him and he dodged. He was certainly fast for a false Toreador, no wonder his deception fooled even him. Romero knew better than to interfere, Ghoul or not he was no match for me. Did Alex not understand? It had burned, oh I was thirsty too, the blood had gone, vomited up in the street, down an alleyway, lost as visions of the burned one plagued me.

A frenzy came upon me, one of anger and thirst. I attacked with all I had, lashed out with my claws, there were bats, there were screams, darkness, a soothing bird, a scorning Toreador, a vision soaked in red, laughter, tears and giggling clowns.

"Ariadne!" My Baron, his beautiful voice called to me and furious as it was I was pleased to hear it. I reached for him with a groan, trying to spy him through my working eye but he saw only my flaws and pulled back with a scowl.

"It hurts! HURTS!" I yanked at my hair hard with both hands, trying to pull the child from my minds. Uproot yourself fiend! Vision! Nightmare!

"Shit," ever eloquent Kent's voice rang out over my screams. I was tiring now; I had exerted my powers, turned the office room into a tip, made Alex's hair scruffy and turned his lip bloody. The desk was in two, the chair upside down, and the bin a ball of mesh. I saw Isaac's unimpressed stare, he could have restrained me, he should have but shock and disgust had prevented him.

"Kid what's going on?" Kent demanded.

"It hurts," I stammered as I rolled my eyes at him, "when I feed, when I think, the blood burned my tongue, shouting in my head, too noisy, the ancient child, he's coming, he's coming!" I grabbed at my hair and screamed. Ginger came to restrain me or perhaps console, brave Toreador either way, but I shrugged her off and lashed out with my hallucinations, see real swans wretched bird! Why would they not listen? Why would they not help? I was so thirsty and I ached, the fire was everywhere, the blood was poison. A warning, a lesson, or a mad creation? 'Perhaps you are doing this,' the voices suggested, 'it's all in your head. Making it up, making it real, silly child, go to sleep, the bed bugs only bite the weak.'

I felt warm, strong arms around me, risking hurt to try and help me, the only one in the room who wasn't revolted by my looks. "There crazy cat," Romero murmured in his usual gruff but kind manner, "it's all in your head, just the usual trick of your clan. Just relax." He let me burrow against him and obey. I shuddered as I smelled his blood, heard it beating just below the skin, it was so tempting; I cursed the Baron and myself. Don't bite, the Baron will get angry, nip the Ghoul and he will see you parted again and ban the Ghoul from you.

"Poor girl," Ginger sympathised, "perhaps there really is an ancient. She is terrified Isaac and her kind have a strange insight to things."

"I want Rob!" I wailed. My big brother, a Gangrel, he wouldn't be vain, he would hold me, or would he? He was different now, we both were, I wasn't Sarah, would he protect Ariadne? Could he? He wasn't the Baron, only the Baron soothed the voices. Yet he was still my big brother! "I need him! I need Rob!" I screamed. He was tough, resourceful and as cunning as a Gangrel could be, and he could detect danger, yes he would protect me, he must! He was young though and no Baron or Prince, certainly no ancient but whom else was there?

Romero held me tight though I could have snapped his arms off me easily if I wanted to, instead I remained selfishly in his grasp, needing his comfort and a place to hide, to sniffle pathetically and moan.

I do not know how long passed, hours perhaps, maybe just minutes. My thirst had grown but I was ignoring it, the grave guard and I were on the floor now, he was propped up against the wall cradling me patiently. At some point Kent's cold hands had squeezed my shoulders and he had murmured quietly, "kid I'll look after you." He was baffled, they all were, awkward Toreadors, too proud to abandon me but too sickened to do anything.

"I am sorry Ariadne," Isaac addressed me calmly, "for my treatment of you, though it does not excuse your wanton destruction of my office. So many ways now I have hurt you," he continued, "and so many ways you have hurt me too. It has been a destructive relationship, though passionate but...I love you still, it pains me and you, but I cannot help it."

I shook my head hatefully as I glowered at him, though it was hard as my aching eye was leaking once more. "You spurned me!" I snapped. "I went to the devil's den for you; I risked the paranoid prince's wrath for you, all for you! And what did I receive? Beatings and abandonment, accusations of treachery and looks of revulsion- my thanks for my service, my reward for my love!"

"Settle crazy cat," Romero tried to calm me, "you have a point, I get it, but it's useless shouting about it. Just calm down for a moment."

"He's right," Kent spoke up and I felt his hands weaving through my hair loosely. "You're...well you're even more mentally fucked than usual tonight, you need to get a grip on things, well as much of a grip as one of your lot can manage. One thing at a time Miss batshit crazy, you were fine when you woke up, did you feed on some drug addict or is there a full moon or some shit?"

I shook my head. "I went to the trashcan of sinners, took a bite on a pervert and then...then it burned, and I saw the blackened child, a vision, he does not grace the starry land yet but he will, the assassins, make the blood sickly, tastes foul to the tongue, made me ill. I'm so thirsty now, my tongue is dry."

"Er..." I sensed Romero's heartbeat hasten just a little, enough to garner my attention. "Maybe you should...stand for a while," he suggested lamely. I could smell his blood, thick in the air, close, too close, ah I was in such need.

Kent seized me before I could give in to my longing and yanked me to my feet. "I'll take you to feed and then we will go find Rob, alright?" he suggested waspishly. "Maybe you'll calm the fuck down then."

"Where is Rob?" I demanded as I tried in vain to shake free from his grasp on my arms.

"He stays in my shack," Romero answered, "he said there were less assholes in the graveyard," he added sardonically.

"A most charming neonate," Isaac grumbled wearily.

I looked the Baron's way again and stared at him pleadingly. "You make the voices quiet," I said, "you can make it stop. Please, make it stop," I begged.

I grew hopeful as he extended a hand but then his condemning golden gaze fell upon my ruined eye and his hand dropped away. He would never have me back while I looked this way.

"Take her to her brother," Romero grumbled as tears started to trickle down my pale cheeks.

I let Kent pull me out, allowing Alex to open the door for him and accompany me out. The redhead looked at me with worry and pity and a subdued form of the revulsion the others bore. He was too Toreador to ignore it but Malkavian enough to not be dominated by it. "It wasn't my doing!" I snapped bitterly. "The flesh crafters did it!"

"Shush," Kent retorted angrily, "you're drawing attention." He released one of my arms, linking with the other in an attempt to appear normal. Of course when a group of silken dressed beauties spied us and stared at me in disgust and Kent in mockery, he tensed up and shook me off. "Come on," he grumbled, "let's get you fed, stupid Malk, you never feed right."

"Don't bully her further," Alex scorned, "she cannot help what is happening to her."

"Of course not," Kent grumbled sardonically as he led the way on. "Drinking from seedy perverts, fuck knows what he had in his blood, probably has made her crazier. This is just nonsense."

"You know it's not," I hissed at him irritably, "you know I went to the Giovanni and saw what I saw! You his highness wouldn't have me chasing myths!"

Kent turned a grey glower on me as a crowd of teens paused to look our way in confusion and curiosity. "Alright!" he replied heatedly. "I know," he growled, "you saw something that means bad news for the lot of us. You shouldn't have went there and those Italian fops shouldn't have opened the damn thing but it's done now and if your babbling is to believed we're all going to face Gehenna soon. Or maybe just some pissed ancient, who knows? For now though, let's just focus on getting you fed and back to some pretence of sanity, it's all I can deal with right now."

So we wandered as an unhappy trio, Kent angry, I sad and Alex torn between guilt and pity. Kent led the way to The Asp Hole for 'cleaner victims' and with his charm he lured away three long limbed, golden painted women with long, coiling hair, sparkling eyes and glittering dresses. "One for each," he muttered as Alex joined him in the art of seduction and betrayal.

I wanted to help, to speak honeyed words as I once had to lure victims to me but my confidence was gone and I feared my would be victim would only see my ugly form and scream. So I waited as the men guided our prey further down an alleyway and into darkness and privacy. Then when two though they were kissing, and one remained, baffled and longing, I went for her. I was not as soft as the men; instead I attacked brutally with my fangs, ripping a modest hole to suck her crimson nectar from. I drank deeply until Kent pulled me off, and let visions of Sarah dance through my mind as he scorned before dragging me away from the dazed women.

Eventually I snapped from my memories as we entered the graveyard and descended down the twisting path to Romero's shack. I saw Alex pause and sensed him flinch, there were strong memories here for not just him but Xander too whose antics had once made the dead climb up from the earth.

"Not creepy enough for you artist?" Kent questioned him tauntingly. "Thought you always liked the morbid for your work."

"I do," Alex answered, almost in a whisper as he glanced about him, "it's so melancholy, so many forgotten souls, so many unfinished stories, no painting could ever really capture the pain and loss."

Kent shook his head dismissively and continued walking on, pulling me behind him. "The mangy dog better be here," he muttered.

"He's not a dog!" I protested hotly.

"All Gangrels are kid."

We reached the shack and Kent knocked on the door impatiently. "Gangrel!" he shouted a greeting. "It's us, your sister's back."

The door opened and Rob glared out at us mistrustfully, his lips were speckled in red, he had just finished a feed not that long ago. Somewhere in a shallow grave lay a new member of the corpse clan. Gangrels were always closest to the animal side of the Kindred and Rob had come into this world bloody and vengeful, so hard to curb the murderous side now. "Sarah," he greeted me in mild surprise. He then folded his arms and scowled. "It's about bloody time you returned! I was ready to go look for you, of course these assholes wouldn't let me, and that one," he glared at Kent, "said he would go and find you, of course how could I trust that?"

"Well I did, didn't I?" Kent shot back childishly.

"What happened then?" Rob demanded. "With that key?"

"Bad things," I answered darkly, "the boogeyman's nightmare has awoken and it will purge us."

"What?" Rob queried as he looked at me in confusion.

"An ancient," I answered, "a child of the assassins, son of Haqim who will burn those who do not follow Haqim!"

"Haqim?" Alex echoed. "Who's Haqim?"

"I don't know," Kent grumbled, "but assassins, that would the Assamite clan, though they considered themselves warriors and scholars. Strange clan, nothing to do with anyone, Anarchs, Sabbat, Camarilla."

"Haqim is the father," I murmured, "and the child his prophet."

"Could Haqim be an antediluvian?" Alex pondered.

"I don't know," Kent muttered, "the only one who probably knows anything about him or the Assamites is Beckett. Anyway, let's just forget it for now, kid you've found your brother again, so just chill out for the rest of the night, okay?"

"Isaac wouldn't silence the voices," I murmured, "and no believes that we will burn but we will poet, we will."

"Uh huh. Well Rob, she's been whining for you for a while, so if it's not too much trouble, can you babysit her for a few hours? I have a Ghoul to return to but I'll come back."

"Babysit?" Rob answered angrily as his eyes flashed crimson. "She's hardly a child."

"Oh most definitely in the mind she is," Kent retorted brightly, "as you'll learn."

"Maybe I should stay," Alex offered as he glanced my way, "unless you want privacy?"

I shrugged, I had Rob now but I was still worried, he was not strong enough for what was coming, none of us where. "Stay if it pleases you artist."


	33. Chapter 33

"What is it you're looking for?" Rob demanded.

"Ghost venom," I answered merrily as I hunted around the tombstones. Some were crooked, some tall and towering over me, a few had statues, some missing limbs, others still a fine, polished white. The graveyard was old but well kept thanks to the rich relations of the dead within and Romero's fine marksmanship.

"Ghost...what?"

"Don't look at me," Alex remarked, just as baffled as the darker redhead, "I've never heard of ghost venom."

"Are ghosts even real?" Rob queried sceptically.

I whirled round to face him, clasped my hands together and nodded eagerly. "Oh yes, at the lady by the sea a violent one dwells."

Rob shook his head in bewilderment, folded his arms and dared to ask, "and why do you need their...venom?"

"Perhaps it will ward off the unaging child."

"And who or what is that?" Rob pressed for information.

"An antediluvian?" Alex pondered. "Is it like they speak of, the end times, Gehenna?"

'No,' a voice hissed down the web, 'second childe! Old but not one of us! So close though, been so long since the old ones spoke.'

I shook my head in frustration trying to silence the whisperer, he was loudest of the web bound, he was the spider as well as a plump fly. "No," I muttered, "not so old, but not so young as he seems."

"They hide their ugliness in the night," I murmured.

"What?" Rob questioned with frustration.

Before we could talk anymore six Nosferatu appeared out of the air and attacked us. Ah Obfuscate, such a wonderful, tricky talent to have. They attacked with enhanced strength, ghostly wolves and deadly bugs. Rob immediately shifted to his disturbing half-wolf form whilst Alex attacked with his speedy limbs and I sent out visions of madness. We were heavily outnumbered and they held the advantage with Potence strengthening them.

"What do you want?" Rob growled at them in a sudden fury.

"The mad one," a possibly female answered.

"The Prince summons and the Golden Ghoul answers," I commented woefully as I dodged a blow to the head and suffered claws in my back instead.

"La Croix!" Alex exclaimed hatefully. My beloved redhead's face was stained with blood as was his chest and beetles were attempting to burrow into his arms. Rob had taken out one who now tried to crawl away as two jumped my brother.

I tried to go to his aid and felt pussing hands seize me from either side. I fought back, sending one into hysterics and head butting the other. Dazed, I stumbled to Rob, these ugly bloodsuckers had weapons, one held a spiked club, one a large, rusting dagger, another a tire iron and the fourth a knife. I heard Alex scream and turned to see the knife embedded deep in his chest, narrowly missing his dead heart. The tall, boil faced male that had stabbed him, pulled it out and prepared to plunge it in again.

I winced as the tire iron smashed against my right leg and cried out as the club hit my brother's skull. He staggered to one side, shaking his bloodied head and I screamed as I saw the dagger moving to his throat. "NO!" I yelled a protest. "Leave them!"

"Only if you come with us," one on my right side hissed.

"To the Prince?" I questioned. I was not going to the sewers to play with the murderous children of the egg headed Tzimisce.

"Yes to him," one growled out.

"Alright." If he promised me protection, no tricks this time, then perhaps I could trade information with him of the burning child. Would he believe though? Did anyone? It did not matter, Rob could not fight off the ugly dead, he stood no chance against the burning child. If I was away from here Rob would be safe and Alex, Kent, Romero and Isaac too. I should have never returned.

"No!" Rob protested and swung his claws down one's hideous face.

The fight began anew and we all moved as quickly as we could, Alex the swiftest though he was tiring. I tried to call out more madness but I was weakening and thirsting. Another Nosferatu was finished, permanently this time as Rob tore his head off and turned him to ash. For that brief moment we held the upper hand and Alex turned another Nosferatu to burning ashes but then the Ventrue and Toreadors arrived, two of each, it was clear that La Croix was desperate enough to risk Isaac's wrath for me. "The burning child has arrived in the towered city," I realised aloud, "but the madness does not give me its secrets."

I was beaten from all sides, mentally and physically, they tried to cow us into submission with Presence and Dominance but we resisted. I sent out laughter, hallucinations, and visions of death but it was exhausting and my vision became tinged in red. I lashed out with claws and fangs, no longer seeing or caring, I just wanted blood. They all held it, a blending of numerous types, all tainted with death and filled with power, ah it was a terrible sin to drink from the dead but so rewarding.

There was a terrible, bloodcurdling yell that drew me back to the grim reality of the graveyard only briefly. I watched in horror as a Ventrue's sword sliced through Alex's pale neck like butter turning my mad sire from flesh, blood and bone to dust and fire in an instant.

For a moment I was empty, I could not think, even the voices were silent, my body was still, my thirst dead. This was too much to take in, too hard for my labyrinth mind to devour. It was terrible, it shook through me worse than the burned boy's voice had. I screamed and screamed as long claws ripped at my flesh and a female Toreador's Presence forced me to my knees. My eye was gushing blood and pus, my knee was throbbing and threatening to slip free from the thin skin that bound it. I was quivering and screaming, why had they done that?

BANG! BANG! BANG! Three true shots, two through a Toreador ending its existence swiftly, the third striking through a female Ventrue's skull causing her to double over with a scream. The rescue had arrived too late. I looked up and saw him, terrible, glowing and commanding, the Baron of the land, furious in his wonderful, much deserved rage. He did not even wait for explanations, in a blur he finished off the rest, tearing heads asunder until only I, Rob, Romero, Kent and he remained.

"They killed him," Rob growled out, "that redhead, what was his name?"

"ALEX!" I wailed at last as tears of salt and blood soaked my face. "ALEX! BEAUTIFUL, MAD ALEX! HE'S GONE! HE'S GONE!" Devoured, destroyed, and dusted as soon we all would be, a victim of the wrong war, a casualty of La Croix's paranoia. I would see the Prince suffer for this, let the jester burn then! Let him be burned and crucified for Alex!

"Shit," as usual Kent could think of nothing appropriate to say.

I crawled along the ground reaching to where my sire's ashes lay and grasped at them with a sob. "They turned him to ash," I snarled, "there's nothing, nothing to fix! They took him from me! For me! It should have been me! No one wanted me here; no one would defend me but Rob and him! I should have stayed with the Prince," I mumbled miserably, "better the madness was contained with him, the ugliness hidden away; such things do not bother the Ventrue. Better he and I burned together and were wiped away from this dark world."

"No." It was the Baron who spoke up firmly. "No Ariadne, not you, it was I who let this happen, I would not have you back, even when you begged, I turned from you, blinded by vanity when I should have protected you, and him. He was so loyal to you, he would not let your appearance jade his affection even as it ruined mine, I am so sorry."

I shook my head, it was just words, pointless, futile words that would not bring Alex back to us. "He stayed to help Rob with my madness," I said quietly, "it is my fault, I endangered everyone. I should have picked a side as Nines said, but no side truly wanted me."

"We want you," Kent spoke up gently, "which I think I have proved by now kid. This is only that bastard in his tower's fault; he sent you after that coffin, imprisoned you for your loyalty and then hunted you down like a dog. This is all his doing."

"Desperate jester," I mumbled, "the old child is in the city, in the shadows burning, purging but he won't stay there. What have the power thirsting clan awakened? Why did the poet have to die for it? For me? I was going to go with them! Back to plots and prison! Stupid, stupid Alex!" I yelled as I clutched his ashes tightly in my hands until they were smaller specks mashed into my palms.

I felt the Baron's cold hands attempt to embrace me and shook them off angrily. "Not you!" I snarled. "You did not want me! I'm too hideous for the vain Baron's eyes! Do not pity me now! Cast me out!"

He withdrew, apologising once more, helpless now in his guilt and grief.

I started hunting in the dirt for the rest of the ashes, grasping at them along with clumps of the earth. "I need him," I wailed, "all of him, it's not right, he shouldn't be scattered."

"Alright crazy cat," Romero said kindly, "I'll help you find him." He was the only one willing to lean on the dirt with me, lifting up pieces of ash and muck. It was impossible of course, even I could not tell what was a fleck of Alex, what was a piece of our foes or simply the dead earth. Still I had to try; he couldn't be in pieces like this.

We stayed like this for an hour, Rob grumbling curses, the Baron remaining stoic and silent, and Kent pointing out possible pieces of Alex, too afraid of the dirt to touch them. When I thought we had them all it was the artist who suggested putting them in a box, so we carried them in Romero's pockets back to Isaac's domain where a suitable box of plated gold was selected from a collection of jewellery boxes. I sealed them inside and mumbled goodbyes. Kent uttered a few words about Alex's loyalty even when he was, as the dark haired Toreador put it, misguided, and then the Baron placed the box on the mantle above his unused fireplace after saying his own farewells. After that my pains and thirst returned and with Rob and Kent I went to feed.

It was Kent's calmness and silver tongue that lured us victims when Rob and I would have otherwise savaged people to bloody pieces. I would have killed my first victim if Kent had not pulled me back with a fierce struggle, and the second, and the third. My minds instead of being plagued by Sarah where full of visions of Alex. I saw him as my first true ally in Hollywood, even back when Xander tormented him; Alex was still kind and welcoming to me.

I let Kent lead me back to Isaac's without protest, I was too tired to argue, and I did not sneer when Ash greeted me by telling me I was filthy. The Toreadors had come at the Baron's call, partly to repay their respects to Alex and partly to discuss what to do next, respond to La Croix's brazen invasion or wait for the next one? It was at Kent's suggestion that Isaac agreed to contact Nines. I did not care anymore, the politics meant nothing to me even if I was the centre of them- the mad one who everyone thought had some priceless information hidden in the shell of insanity. Rob tired of the discussions too, he did not like being contained amongst a group, he was a loner by deed and nature, partially because he was a Gangrel but also because he had to be for so long thanks to his murderous deeds of revenge. He wanted to leave but I protested, he was not safe with me but he was less safe alone, if La Croix ever learned of him he would be sure to send his Sheriff to carry out an execution. So with several grumblings he retired to Isaac's basement instead.

I should have gone for an early rest too but my head was throbbing and the voices were screaming too loudly for me to sleep, though I could not decipher them. Instead, bloodied, bedraggled and filthy, I went to Isaac's bath, holding up one finger to Ash when he grinned and said, "so you agree you're disgusting."

I was broken, part of me was gone, my beloved creator and dearest friend. I would never see his wary, green gaze again or hear his soft, consoling words. I had never even apologised for abandoning him, leaving him to scream in Romero's basement. He had probably never understood that, how could he have? I trembled as the tears fell again. I had been so cruel and wicked to him, leaving him as Isaac had left me, turning from him because of his flaws, fleeing from him even. I had deserted him to tell La Croix of the Sabbat Malkavian who had slain his Ventrue and in turn been slain by his other self Alex. I had had to go, to protect all of us from Nosferatu lies and a prince's wrath, to tell lies of Alex, keep his personas safe but how could he have understood?

I ran a bath for myself and stared at the water miserably when it was full. It was all my fault, he had been protecting me. The sobs came loud and fast and when someone embraced from behind I did not question who it was or shrug them off. "The blame is mine," I heard the Baron say woefully. He was right, it was his but it was mine also and La Croix's. Had he ordered his minions to destroy all but me? Had he thought of Kent when ordering that? Perhaps Kent and I both were to be spared or perhaps, against the odds, he had not ordered any permanent causalities but his servants had chosen to do what they felt they had to. Well they were all dust now, Alex had been revenged and yet I still felt so empty and incomplete.

"I want to hate you," I choked out odiously, "even if you cannot help being a Toreador, I want to hate you. You're taking advantage," I accused, "because he's gone, but I want you to because I've missed you."

"I've missed you too my sweet Ariadne," he retorted softly. "I know you cannot forgive the hurt and cruelty I've caused you, spurning you when you needed me most and jealously keeping my Ghoul from you. Treating you like dirt, and all but chasing you from my domain because it hurt me too much to see you. What they did to you, poor Ariadne, and all for that bastard fop of a prince, I was jealous of him too, I can admit it now, I knew you served him for me, part of your mad game, but I wondered and worried if in your madness you liked him too and in my foolishness I let you run to him."

"I am ugly still," I reminded him, "marred by the Tzimisce."

"No," he argued, "I thought that, we all did, but we were terribly wrong and only Alex and Romero could see it. You are beautiful, it was your complicated, mad wiles that drew me to you, your personality that I found pretty and loved, it's you, and you are still you. It is hard even now for me to see that, I struggle with the Tzimisce's scars but I am trying not to, I really am Ariadne, for you, and him."

"I want him back," I rasped out angrily, "I want him back!"

"We all do," Isaac empathised.

I selfishly stayed in his embrace for a few minutes longer before returning my attention to the cold bath. I undressed swiftly, climbed in and started to wash. The Baron did not help me as he had in Romero's shack, shuddering at the sight of my scars and mutations but he did stay, an improvement for him. When I was dried and dressed once more he murmured, "you can stay in the basement, there are spare coffins, or with Romero if you would prefer, or Kent."

So I was welcome back in the Baron's domain but not in his coffin, that close comfort was still banned to me. I shook my head; I could not stay here knowing he was so close and yet so far. I needed held, a weak, self-centred need but one I could not get rid of. I was in shock and grief; I wanted someone to console me through that. "I will stay with the crypt keeper."

Isaac frowned but nodded acceptingly. "Well you will stay close," he commanded, "in the apartments with Kent, he says there is a vacant one beside him."

So the Baron had considered and discussed the possibility of me going with Romero then, was I so transparent? I looked down at my flesh hopefully but found everything opaque. I nodded slowly and murmured, "alright we will stay there."


	34. Chapter 34

For many mornings sleep did not come to me, just that strange loud voice roaring down the web. Cries about antediluvians, shouts of old children, burning cities and a forgotten body, a web of bones and flesh, a network of voices all screaming about the end. I tried to doze with Romero but a voice both child and adult bid me to thirst, forced me to hunger and had me moaning for his blood constantly. So I moved then to Kent's abode but my murmurs of death and doom disturbed his much needed beauty sleep and I was designated to his couch.

At last one night beneath a sable sky the wolf showed up, carmine eyed and for the first time fearful. I found him in Isaac's abode conversing in a hushed voice with the Baron about a reckoning in the city of angels. "The Kine don't know yet," Beckett said, "and not all of the Kindred realise what it is but they all know something is wrong."

"And what exactly is it?" Isaac asked calmly though his golden eyes danced with a fear foreign to the Baron. His Minos' touched gaze flickered towards me briefly and I knew he wondered if my mad babbling had been truth. Ah I was as cursed as Cassandra, always foreseeing the future but never believed.

"An ancient," Beckett answered heavily, "a strange one, he calls himself Ur-Shulgi, the herald of Haqim. Haqim being the founder of the Assamites, a clan of assassins and scholars, cursed to thirst for the vitae of Kindred."

Isaac nodded and queried, "and what does this Ur-Shulgi want?"

"He demands that all Kindred revere his sire, Haqim, as a god, those who do not and those who are unworthy to shall be purged." Beckett sighed and added sardonically, "it would seem he's rather strict on this point and has already purged many Kindred in Downtown."

"And what of the jester?" I asked curiously drawing a feral red stare upon me.

"To my knowledge he still exists," Beckett answered dryly, "in hiding of course. A brave gesture indeed to leave his falling city to the mercy of a more powerful Kindred."

"And why did the wolf come here?" I questioned innocently.

"I sadly am not a fan of conversion or worship but I am a fan of my flesh unscathed," Beckett answered in an almost apologetic, merry voice. "I am not staying but I thought it would be kind to leave a word of warning before I departed for less threatening lands."

"The wolf doesn't fight?" I queried.

"Not against ancient foes with the power to use my blood to influence, hurt and even destroy me, no." He gave me a wolfish smile and added, "wolves fight as a pack but not alone."

"How long do you think we have?" the Baron asked coolly.

Beckett sighed and looked back to my handsome Toreador. "It's difficult to guess at the mind of an ancient, he might wait until all of Downtown is purged or something may pull him here." His canine gaze flickered back to me briefly but he did not make any accusations. "I would not assume more than a handful of nights, perhaps just two, maybe more but not long Isaac."

"He will come to burn as promised," I spoke up confidently, "to make the blood boil and taste of poison. He will finish what he started with this mad spirit and have sacrifices of us all; we will be the purged example."

Isaac gave me a cautiously alarmed gaze whilst Beckett looked perturbed. "Sometimes it's best not to open boxes," he remarked dryly.

"Well thank you for your warning," Isaac remarked sincerely, "we will prepare."

"There is no preparing for the minion of an antediluvian," Beckett warned.

"How can you be certain of that?" Isaac retorted with a glimmer of cockiness in his golden eyes. I knew it was bravado, we were all scared here, some of us were just better at hiding it.

"No one has managed it so far," Beckett retorted calmly. "The only thing to fight an ancient with is another ancient and unfortunately we do seem short of those. I would advise you all to seek safety elsewhere Baron, if we are lucky his thirst will tire and he will return to slumber but given how many centuries he has thirsted for..." The wolf left the rest unsaid.

"He will not return to the dirt willingly," I murmured, "even in the day he is awake, endlessly watching for an attack no will dare to make."

"Then there is no point in running," Isaac remarked tranquilly, "for if he will not stop until all are purged or converted, then we will die as cowards rather than fighters. I will tell the others, you are welcome to stay Beckett but if not, thank you again for your warning."

I saw the pity in the wolf's eyes, alone he could survive but alone was lonely, and it was a cursed existence for any of us. "Bye Mr. Beckett," I said softly, "I wish we could have found the Holy Grail or the Ark of the Covenant together, alas only the Nazis will know their secrets."

He shook his head with a sad smile. "Farewell then," he said curtly, "and good luck to all of you."

He left quickly and Isaac and I were alone once more. All business, the Baron had us feed on the first Kine he could get alone, before he called a meeting. Within an hour we were all gathered in his humble jewellery parlour, trying not to appear frightened though I knew I was not the only one suddenly wary about what was beyond death.

"There is an ancient coming for us," Isaac announced sombrely, "Ur-Shulgi, childe of the creator of the Assamite clan, Haqim. He comes to convert Kindred to Haqim's ways and to purge those who will not or cannot join. Beckett informed me that he has already taken Downtown and the coward La Croix has fled." He paused for a moment, and I noticed how for half a second there was a prickle of relief in Kent's eyes before he banished it for anger. "You may go too if you wish," Isaac continued, "I will not think less of anyone that does but I am staying. Ur-Shulgi has been silent and thirsting for centuries, his thirst will not end at Hollywood."

"We can't fight an ancient," Ash was the first to protest.

"We can try," V.V spoke up confidently with a glimmer of passion in her own lovely gaze.

"And fail," Ash sneered as he turned on her with a look of astonishment.

"Firespawn can dance out of Hollywood and into myth," I said with a grin, "the choice is there."

"No," he glowered at me and shook his head, "don't tell me to run. I won't run but we won't survive either. This is...this is your fault!" He was quick to accuse and point at me hatefully. "You opened that stupid box and damned us all!"

I shook my head in weak protest. "The ones of pasta and cars did disturb the box; I was merely there, a vaguely innocent bystander in the chaos."

"Why did he spare you?" Ash demanded. "Why?"

"To burn me later with everyone else," I answered truthfully.

"Just wonderful, not only must I die but it must be with you," Ash grumbled as he folded his arms and leaned back against the wall in defeat.

"Didn't you want to end it all anyway and be the phoenix?" I queried innocently.

"We will fight," Isaac spoke up firmly before Ash could yell at me, "we are strong and have many powers and talents, if we are to be destroyed we will not make it easy for him."

"Does he come alone?" Kent queried curiously. "Or has he minions now?"

Isaac shook his head. "Truthfully I do not know but it is possible there are some he has converted, maybe even members of his own clan have come out of the shadows to serve their shared master."

"There are shadows about the undead child," I mused, "they take the blood and twist it, some are true scholars and killers, others only masquerade, the beautiful, proud and mad, all trying to dance the same dance to avoid the purge."

I could see everyone look at me and then Romero finally spoke up bluntly, "that's a yes then."

"I don't understand," Heather cried out. The redhead was trembling beside Kent, her green eyes teary and wide.

"You don't have to," Kent cooed to her softly, "you aren't staying."

"Master?" she croaked with a look of disbelief at him.

"You are mortal yet," Kent murmured, "and would stand no chance in this. I am setting you free and ordering you to safety, go back to Santa Monica."

She shook her wildly and tried to voice a protest but Kent's order had too much power over her and she could not ignore it.

"You too Romero," Isaac spoke up reluctantly.

"No," Romero protested flatly with a frown.

"I cannot see you lost because of us," Isaac said. I knew he had been about to say 'me' but then his golden gaze had flickered once to me. Would the crypt keeper bleed for me? I could not have that. "You are strong, fast, and an excellent marksman, I do not question any of that but you are not Kindred and you should not die for a Kindred's hate."

"You can guard the poet's red," I suggested softly.

Romero turned a glare on me, it was the first time he had ever looked at me with such anger and I felt a flinch. His gaze was more powerful than Medusa's and had me frozen. "Don't you dare," he snapped at me, "don't side with him on this and make ordering me to flee seem like something else. After all we've been through, all I've put up with, do you all think so little of me?"

"No," it was Kent who answered him, "they love you Romero, and Hell knows I don't get why," he added sardonically, "but it is what is. Neither Isaac nor mad little Ariadne here wants to lose you with everyone and everything else. "They won't be able to fight to their best abilities either if they think you are in danger."

"Stop it," Romero growled out, "I'm not some damn kitten!"

I grinned at that and even V.V chortled briefly. "No," I said as his olive eyes turned to me, "you are a survivor so keep on surviving. Someone has to continue on should we all be dust, please," I looked at him pleadingly and felt my eyes dampen, "please crypt keeper go now while you can. Take the purple wildflower and survive for us."

"I release you Romero," Isaac said sombrely, "and order you to do as Ariadne says."

"Fuck," Romero cursed angrily as he glowered at each of us in turn. As Heather could not fight against Kent nor could Romero argue against Isaac. It was done, the Ghouls were free and we would probably see them no more.

I trembled as I looked at the zombie shooter; at least he would be safe, and though I would not see him again it would not be because he was permanently gone from this earth like poor Alex. I could not bear to know that yet another of my friends would not walk beneath the moon again. I went to him then, stumbling slightly as my ever aching leg protested. He looked at me as if in refusal but then his furious stare softened slightly and he took both my hands, not flinching when my claws scraped his flesh, and he pulled me close.

"Ah crazy cat," he murmured, "don't get burned on me, life's more interesting with you in it."

I nodded against his warm chest as I nestled into him and let him hug me tight. "We'll build sandcastles after it all, won't we?" I pulled back and looked up at him hopefully.

Romero grinned back and nodded before kissing me gently on the brow. "Of course."

We parted at last and Romero glanced at Heather before saying coldly, "let's go then."

Heather looked pleadingly at Kent and gave him a quick hug. "You'll come find me after master, won't you?" she queried desperately.

"Yes," Kent retorted quietly, "now go with Romero, he will keep you safe even if he is eccentric."

Heather nodded as she broke from Kent and turned reluctantly to Romero. The crypt keeper gave Isaac one final look and said stiffly, "good luck." He did not wait for a reply, opening the door swiftly and exiting out into the cool night. Heather followed hastily, sparing Kent a final teary gaze before she exited after the graveyard guard.

I sagged slightly against the wall, my knee once again throbbing and threatening to give way. I felt drained, first Alex now Romero, one by one we were being separated and all too soon there would be more losses.

"What's the plan then?" Ash asked the obvious question. Alas there was no obvious answer and so the futile debate began.

I listened only half-heartedly, perking up when Rob offered suggestions. It did not matter what strategies we came up with, none of us had fought an Assamite or an ancient before, we could not predict or guess at what strategy the immortal childe would have, not even I could foresee it. Yet on into the night we conversed, meaningless words spoken to make us feel like we were doing something, that something could be done. When the night had finally started to close we separated to feed, I going with Isaac.

It was with reluctance that I followed him back to his domain. "We could all perish tomorrow," he murmured woefully, "up in smoke and flames and I cannot do that knowing I foolishly spurned you to the end. Lie with me once more sweet Ariadne," he pleaded.

I was still angry but I knew I would regret it as much as he if we did not reconcile before the end so I went with him down to his basement and back to his coffin once more. The dust bunnies bade me an excited welcome and the fay told tales of goblins but I was too tired to listen. I climbed into the coffin first, awkwardly, wincing as my claws scraped the wood and my knee buckled with the movement. Isaac slid in beside me quickly, my back to his torso, the worst of my hurts away from him.

For a while we were as still as corpses should be, silent and almost suffocating in our awkward attempt to slumber. Then at last I felt his cold hand reach around to embrace me and I welcomed it with a smile.


	35. Chapter 35

_Guys I'm so, so sorry it's taken this long for me to update! Truthfully I just don't have a lot of time for fics lately and I have to prioritise. Thank you so much for all the reviews and favs and a special thanks to the people who reminded me about this fic and requested that I finished it._

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><p>We had two nights of planning, waiting and fearing, and then on the third night Ur-Shulgi came. Hollywood burned, it was magnificent and terrifying, flames of gold, crimson and deep orange stretched up to the skies and blackened it with smoke. Stars above and below were lost to the fiery purge as Kine and Kindred alike tried to flee. The Kine of course were fooled, some thought it arson, others nature and some a film set they had stumbled upon. It was indeed a grand performance of horror, madness and death; ordinarily my three favourite things but tonight I found them unpleasant.<p>

The burned child's clan of assassins and converts danced in and out of the flames with glee, slaying and purging as they moved. Isaac and the others fought back with their handy speed and imposing presence whilst I sent out bats and turned bloodthirsty screams to wild laughter. I could not see the burned child but I knew he was out there, I felt his presence reaching out to my mind, crushing down upon my skull and making the voices scream.

The blood sweat came without warning, one moment my blood was within, the next staining my porcelain skin, interrupting my vision of singing cats and evil eyed crows. I stumbled on my weakened knee and was saved from an Assamite's sword swing by Kent's wonderful intervention. He looked at me warily and then gave a howl of pain as his own blood was tore from him in crimson droplets. For the Toreador it was worse as he shuddered at the stains the droplets created as they snaked down his skin and bled through his clothes. I was annoyed but too used to a furred hand and pus leaking eye to be bothered over bloodstains. It was interesting to see my skin red, a potential new look, though perhaps not worth the pain I reflected. I watched as Kent stumbled backwards with a moan of despair, rubbing at the stains frankly and screaming loudly as that only made them worse.

The memories came, colliding and mingling with the shouts on the web. The voices were a mingle, strangers drowning out my beloved companions, shrieking of danger and screaming out challenge over the whispers of elves. I looked for Isaac in the fracas as Kent moved in a blur towards Velvet who was struggling to fight three opponents. The dearest dancer was not designed to fight and was too busy recoiling from ugly wounds to really inflict any.

"_What the Hell is wrong with you?" Rob queried sardonically. He tried to sound amused but I saw the unease in his soft, blue-grey eyes. He was looking at my latest painting, a pig headed man being crucified upside down. "Why can't you just draw ponies?"_

I looked for Rob as I swallowed down the memory and spied him in his beast form tearing off Assamite heads with glee. He towered above them, wolfish and beautiful, a true monster of the night. It was everything he had feared I would become even before we had known of this dark, dreadful and delightful world. He had talked about a shrink for me to our parents, a conversation they had thought unheard by me. My beloved brother had just not understood me.

I glimpsed the dead phoenix briefly, surprisingly tough with his fists, sneaking in blows as he dodged sword swings. It lasted until the flashbacks were forced upon him, I saw him tremble as the horrors and wonders of his old life flashed before his eyes, the life Isaac had created, corrupted and destroyed. Poor Isaac, he had meant to make Ash a star but Ash had chosen drugs and Isaac had made him the undead instead. Their relationship was more complex than any drama film Isaac sponsored.

I watched as several Toreador and Ventrue soldiers fell, cut down by poisons, blood thefts, curses and swords and swallowed up by the ever growing fire. Immortality, such a deceptive lie. My skin was starting to burn and my hair to singe; it was all around me, a hungry circle of fire.

Silence. It was so foreign to myselves that I did not recognise it. The screams of battle were ceased and yet the fighting continued on. I looked on with interest, wondering if we were trapped in an old movie, caught up in some ancient curse of Hollywood. I anxiously looked for Mr Chaplin but he was not in the crowd. Then there was a terrible sound, the Baron shrieking.

I saw him fall to his knees, my beautiful, strong Baron, crippled by the hand of a burned child stretching out of the flames. Isaac was soaked in his own blood immediately and I was in horror as it began to build before him, hovering in a growing sphere. I moved to go to him, crying out as my cursed knee gave way again. I felt the hollow eyes upon me and then his voice rang through the air, "**be purged mad blasphemer.**" The fire reached out to engulf me as Isaac let out another scream.

In a final act of folly and madness I reached out to the web, stretching up to the spider who had so often tried to ensnare me. He sniffed the dead boy as a unicorn catches the scent of a virgin and he came. "ANCIENT! THE OLD WAYS! THE OLD ONES! I WAS ONE, I AM ONE! I AM ONE AND ALL! THE LEGION!" I had always wondered what it would be like to be struck by lightning, now tonight I would have to wonder no longer.

My voice became a presence in a body; I was too crowded, too full! I snarled and snapped, fought back and unleashed laughter and madness but he was not even wounded. His own laughter was thunder, his madness that of a thousand jesters and fools, he was **the madness**. My body moved but it was not I, I was a puppet, a Pinocchio ready to be eaten by Monstro. The spider was no longer on the web. He wanted to turn white to black, sanity to insanity, up to down, he wanted to end the fire with chaos. No! I argued back, the Baron! Isaac! He needs us! I tried to look through my eyes, for a moment there was only red, the yellow pus but at last my good eye worked and I spied poor Isaac.

"I AM THE VERY PRINCE OF MADNESS, CHILDE OF THE FIRST KING AND TWIN TO BEAUTY!" the voice screamed through me, my voice, the Clan voice, the master's voice, he was me, I was him, we were one and everyone all at once.

Jyhad, the word flowed through my mind and it all became maddeningly clear. It was all a game; we were just pawns on the grand chessboard Caine had carved out. The eternal struggle between Methuselahs and Antediluvians, at first a battle between Caine's beloved children and their own corrupted offspring, the murder of Caine's offspring had led to many ancient curses. The Giovanni's taking and opening of the box, my turning by a Malkavian, Sebastian's generous sparing of me, all planned! I started to laugh, it became so wild and loud that it was contagious and Malkav, my nameless master, let the sound slip out of his lips. With that single, soft snicker four vampires were thwarted, their heads exploded into bloody nothingness and their bodies became ash. This had all been planned!

I tasted Ur-Shulgi's fear fresh on the night air, bitter to the tongue, not as bad as lemons but not as pleasant as coffee either, it was not something I savoured. The burned boy flung out diseases and curses, turning the Toreador's beautiful flesh to blackening, oozing boils and violent streaks of blood that would scar their beauty. They fell in a tremble of disgust and horror, grasping at their twisted forms and howling in horror. I saw VV drop as her long, luscious red locks fell from her scalp and her limbs became more twisted and deformed than my own. The ancient child knew how to strike the Toreadors best.

'Stop this!' I cried out as I saw Isaac's very flesh begin to melt as his clothes rotted and fell off him. 'STOP! NOT THE TOREADORS! FRIENDS! FAMILY! LOVE!' My words came out more broken than a wounded swan's song as I watched Ash try to rip out his own eyes to banish the ugliness of his friends from sight.

"GEHENNA WILL BE LONG; IT WILL BE AN ETERNITY OF OMENS AND DEATHS! LET THE DAYS BE NIGHT AND WRONGS BE RIGHT!" The ancient mad sire's voice was a roar through my lips. "LET THIS BE THE NEXT MOVE TOWARDS IT ON THE BOARD! IT COULD BE CENTURIES UNTIL THE NEXT PLAY SO MAKE IT A GOOD MOVE!" He laughed hysterically and I watched through his eyes, for they could not be my own as they were healed, as friends and foes alike were destroyed by the mere sound of his voice.

"STOP!" For one brief moment my voice was my own, not so loud, not so powerful but he heard it. The spider reacted to it with a curious pause.

"CHILD ON THE WEB, SPAWN OF THE LEGION!" he hissed at me. "CHILD I MUST DEVOUR! AH BUT TO HURT THE HELPFUL, TO KILL THE USEFUL, IT IS THE WAY BUT IT SHOULD NOT BE! BROKEN VESSEL, SHATTERED LIKE THE MIRROR, HOW DOES ONE SPARE YOU AND DESTROY YOU?"

"ISAAC!" I saw the Baron's face begin to crack and glow with embers as he started to lose himself to the assassin child's might.

"MY SISTER'S OWN," my mad father murmured softly, "CURSED BEAUTY, THEY ARE SELFISH AND YET GIVING WITH THEIR LOVE, THEIR MADNESS IS MORE COMPLEX THAN OUR OWN. I PITY THEM AS I PITY YOU FOR BEING TRAPPED BY IT, LOST IN A MAZE OF TOREADOR HATE AND AFFECTION. VERY WELL, UNTIL THE NEXT MOVE NEEDS MADE!"

Dementation, it was of course only appropriate that he used the gift so unique to our clan. Bedlam, I watched it reach out to all our enemies like a whisper, sending them into crazed laughter, turning them upon one another and themselves and sending them into the flames in self-destruction as they ran from their own fears. Ur-Shulgi was last, I watched and saw what he saw, the master in the shadows, the Dark Father come with all his wrath, his face marred with disapproval and in his hand he carried a head, the rotting skull of Haqim. It was too much for the eternal child who always needed an eternal parent, without his father he was lost, alone, an orphan trapped in a ruined body.

He screamed and it was the cries of a lost child, the monster in him had deserted him with his father. My hand that was not my hand and yet strangely was lifted my bloodstained katana and I moved with a speed I not possessed since the marring of my leg. One swing and it was done, the boy's head tumbled off his burned shoulders with ease and as his body fell in clumps of ash his deadly fire faded away as the remnants of his army continued to destroy themselves in a fit of insanity.

I was sucked back within the hive and for a moment all boundaries faded away and I saw him. "I thought you would be taller," I lamented, "and wear a hat, why no hat?"

His body was marble, the perfect sculpture though I'm sure the Toreadors would disagree, picky poets and artists that they were. His hair was messy, thick and spiked, dark with streaks of red and gold through it, and his eyes were orbs of madness, one a bright turquoise flecked with purple and the other bronze flecked with emerald green, he was neither young nor old, lean and wearing the sumptuous garments of noblemen in the period films Isaac was secretly fond of.

"I forget if this is me or not," he murmured, his voice soft and dangerous like a tiger's purr. The play had been made, there was no need for theatrics any longer, and I did not need to be impressed, though I would have liked fireworks and candy floss anyway. "I crossed the boundaries, things became different then, but wonderful, the things one can see. It makes me proud my children see it too but also jealous, the madness was a gift to be guarded and now it is spread too thin, a web to contain me." His expression darkened, a shadow crossing over his face. "It is why I must kill you all eventually, my darling children; I love and despise you best. You should fall to me now but it is unkind to betray one who helped, unexpected however." He grinned showing me his beautiful, jagged fangs. "I like the unexpected."

I quivered as my vision turned black, then gold and then red. He was leaving me, I felt him flow out of me, it was painful as if I was being ripped inside out. I screamed out of pain and loss, the voices were going, I was going. It was tearing my body and my mind, everything was going out, and I was being torn with it. I burned and blazed, light surrounded me, blood and tears flowed from me and my voices slipped away with screams and moans.

Darkness engulfed me as I hit the ground and jolted back to reality with the pain. I shuddered and sucked in a breath. A breath! I opened my eyes, they both worked and yet they did not! I could see out of both but it wasn't right, nothing was crisp anymore, everything was faded, it was not blurry and yet it was not clear. It was dim, hard to see, night was no longer day. I sucked in another breath and my chest throbbed with the effort, this was not right! I tried to cease it and felt my chest tightened as I stretched out both my palms and looked at them in surprise. They stung from several cuts inflicted upon them and my right wrist threatened to bruise. There was no fur!

A hungry hiss and several snarls snapped my attention upwards. Eyes glowed out of the darkness at me, feral eyes on the point of frenzying, the gaze of vampires barely standing, starving for all the blood they had been drained of. Bump! Bump! Bump! My heart! I clapped my left hand to my chest in horror and a gasp escaped me, it was beating! I felt it there beneath the tatters of my shirt, pounding feebly against my breast, struggling to start a forgotten habit. A form came at me in a blur and I knew I could not move as nimbly as before. My body felt heavy and slow, I would never make it.

BANG! The blur became solid as it jerked back with the blow of the bullet. I saw Kent's arms flail up as he just managed to stop himself from falling and instead stumbled back awkwardly. He gave an angry snarl and glowered behind me with thirsty eyes.

"Not another step poet."

I looked back in surprise and delight, the disobedient grave guardian, somehow standing amidst the carnage, armed him with his faithful shotgun now aimed at my friends who would make me dinner. I staggered up to my feet and did not know whether to feel joy because my knee was fixed or grief as my body hurt to move and was sluggish.

"What...what is she?" Isaac struggled to speak. He was near Kent; I could not resist glancing back to him. He was dirty, bloodstained and burned but it would all heal in time with rest and feeding. His gold eyes were not friendly as they lingered on me though, there was no gratitude, only the feral thirst that crippled and cursed us all. Us all? I stretched out my pale arms and turned them over, they were bruised and battered but I could still pick out some veins flowing beneath the smudges and stains, my body was pumping blood, my body was _living_. "She smells...of food!" he marvelled.

"Blood," VV hissed as she staggered up behind the Baron, one heel snapped, her corset lopsided and her hair in tattered clumps. It too would fix itself; it would grow back quickly in the night if she fed well. "She bleeds!"

"Behind me sugarpuss, now," Romero commanded firmly as he clicked his shotgun warningly.

I obeyed, hurrying to the loyal grave guard and staggering behind him. "What's happened?" I croaked in horror.

"I don't know," he retorted as he kept his dark stare on the vampires, "I sat the battle out, but I couldn't leave you all, just as well really seeing as how they need supper and you seem to be breathing."

"I..." I lifted up one cut finger and suckled on the blood tentatively, it was hot, salty and disgusting on my tongue. There was nothing nutritious about it and nothing in me that craved it.

"Isaac you don't want to do this," Romero called out to the snarling Toreador. "There are other Kine to feed upon, go and find them, she is still Ariadne. I'll take her, just let us go."

"Go now!" Isaac hissed back, his voice deeper and more bestial than usual.

Romero turned quickly and gripped my hand with one hand, pulling me up the ruined streets hastily. We did not have to go far and yet every step hurt as my feet were bare and I felt the rough ground beneath them. There was a battered, old, black truck up ahead which Romero urged me towards. He cocked his shotgun, tugged out the keys and urged me in. It took a few precious seconds before the engine chugged to life and we were able to flee from the death and carnage.

The ripped, leather seat was cold beneath my skin and I found myself shivering as the icy air of the night started to get to me. When the truck rolled over a speed bump the vomit came up splattering onto the dirty rubber mat on the floor.

"Well that's going to be hard to clean," Romero mused in his usual sardonic manner.

It was comforting to find him unchanged and still on my side. He was the only one who had never once betrayed or abandoned me, even when it had earned him the Baron's wrath. He had put up with my madness, my amnesia, my blood thirst, my ugliness and more and all with just a tired smile and a roll of his eyes. "Rob?" I remarked hoarsely as I wiped the vomit from my mouth with the back of my hand. "Was Rob there?"

"Yes and he looked fine kid," Romero answered calmly, "well he looked like a bloodthirsty monster but that's probably about right for him."

I leaned back against the chair and turned my attention to the window, my reflection was there, faded and pale, she looked ordinary and I hated her. "He had to destroy his children but I helped him so he undid me," I murmured quietly. "He took it away when he left, I'm...human." The word was like an ill taste upon my tongue and I felt sick to speak it.

"It's not the worst thing in the world," Romero murmured as we hit the main road. "Look, I'm going to get us out of here and then tomorrow night I'll give Isaac a call. You were turned before so you can be turned again, if that's what you really want. Personally I'd suggest you find out what a sunrise is again before you make that choice."

"Sunrise," I retorted nervously, "bright and beautiful, it must be heavy for Apollo to pull. Do you ever see one?"

"Sometimes," the grave keeper replied wistfully.

"Where are we going?" I asked as I sank into the uncomfortable seat wearily.

"Santa Monica, where I should be," he answered moodily, "and where red is."

'And my family,' I thought achingly, 'and home, could I go? It's not taboo if I'm human, right?'

"Romero," I addressed him quietly, "will you stay with me?"

"Of course," he answered and when I looked his way he flashed me a smile. "Life's dull without you crazy cat."


	36. Chapter 36

I could feel it begin to burn and I recoiled against Romero with a whimper. "Apollo stings," I hissed out.

"It's in your head," the grave guardian murmured, "which for you really isn't that surprising I suppose. Look you're not a vampire anymore crazy cat and that's going to take a lot of getting used to. Now come on," he pushed me from his chest gently but firmly, turning my head back to lightening sky with one hand, "and take a look at what you've been missing."

It was beautiful and yet terrible, the sky was a splash of colours I had forgotten, it was horribly bright and made my eyes sting and water. Pink, lilac, pale blue and a soft, light gold blooming at the bottom replacing the eternal inky black and purple sapphire I had long grown used to. When the white rays stretched up pulling their heavy golden burden with them I turned back against Romero with a shudder, it was too bright, too bright!

"Watch now," he urged, "your first sunrise for a while, mine too, it's something to be seen."

I turned back slowly, squinting my eyes and expecting to burst into flames immediately as Helios rose but though my skin tingled there were no flames. I watched as the churning waves below turned from black to navy blue and then a dazzling deep turquoise, emerald in patches, and sapphire in others with creamy, white froth building in low waves at the top. I remembered splashing in it with my friends, ducking underneath the shallow waves with Phil when I was supposed to be studying on one of those rare summer days when he wasn't chasing someone else. When I had been younger Rob and I had built sandcastles here, he had hated it but done it anyway to amuse me.

I clutched at Romero's hand tightly and watched it awe and horror as the sun continued to climb. It made my eyes and mind ache alike, this was wrong, forbidden, I was the dead given life again, a dark and unholy trick! The damned burned in the light but I was not burning, how could that be? My eyes started to water and I blinked away the tears as I was forced to squint and then shield my vision with one hand. "It's...beautiful," I admitted.

"Yep," Romero agreed candidly.

I sank back against him and we watched, transfixed like the cat watches the fish in the bowl, until at least an hour had past. Romero let out a yawn then and I felt a wave of exhaustion overcome me, my body was sore and heavy, I was drained, my stomach growled and groaned, hungry and nauseous at the same time and my throat burned. "Let's get breakfast," Romero suggested as he stood up, tugging me up with him.

"And then what?" I wondered quietly as I continued to sneak glances up at the golden orb in the sky, half expecting it to lash out at me with a fiery whip.

He shrugged. "I don't know crazy cat, what do you want to do?"

"I..." Would they still be there? Would they want to see me? Surely it was allowed, I was no longer fanged and bloodthirsty, the masked men could not stop me. "My family," I admitted quietly.

"Ah er..." Romero did not know what to say, poor grave guard, always caught in the politics of the undead it was most unfair. "Well...could you think about that one maybe?" he suggested awkwardly.

I nodded. "Yes, many thoughts, many decisions for this humble mortal reborn, does one take syrup on pancakes or sugar? I forget what tasted best; there was only the red nectar for so long."

"Well that I can help with," Romero commented a little more happily, "there's a diner near here if I remember correctly, not the best but hey to you even burnt pancakes should taste pretty good after no pancakes at all."

"Yes," I answered eagerly as I allowed him to lead the way back to the stone tunnel that led up to the beach's car park. "I missed the delights of breakfast, only supper for the night dwellers, most unfair."

Surfside Diner, C rated at best it made business by serving quick fattening food to drunks and drug addicts while the staff turned a blind eye to the drug deals so long as the dealers continued to turn a blind eye to the lack of healthcare in the place. I looked at it with fresh eyes, weak eyes still sensitive to the ever rising sun and no longer sharp and focused. I frowned as only memories instead of voices told me of the brightly lit, grubby looking joint. There in the corner just before the toilet doors I had once thrown up, there to the left in a booth with a hole in the green leather couch created by my nails I had spotted Phil with another woman and vented out my rage upon them both, and there on the middle barstool I had spied Chase and he had grinned back and offered me a doughnut. I held back a shudder, Chase was gone now, permanently and Phil, if Phil still lived he was probably a mess who would want nothing to do with me, vampire or not.

I allowed Romero to guide me to a booth and then order some pancakes and questionable coffee. "It's not the same without whiskey," he lamented as he returned to the table and pushed a cup across to me, "but it will do."

I looked down at the murky brown liquid and tried to recall if I had even liked the stuff. What had I been like before Xander had damned me? "My name was Sarah," I said quietly to the rippling reflection in the cup, "Sarah Grey and I had an older brother, Robert Grey. I was an art student, still at university, I had a boyfriend, Phil but I liked someone else, Chase, and my best friend was Samantha." I wrapped both my hands around the cup and pressed my palms close to it, wincing as it burned. Yet the pain felt good, deserved.

"Easy there," Romero cautioned as one of his large hands pressed against my left knuckle gently, "it's not so easy for you to heal now."

"No?" I queried mockingly as I looked up at him. "As a vampire I was scarred and ugly, now I'm back to me, no leaking eye, no wonky knee and no furred hand." I released the cup at last and waggled my fingers at him, showing my reddened palms to him too.

"I never found you ugly," he retorted sincerely as he withdrew his hand in time for Doris to plonk down the pancakes. They were in an uneven stack with the syrup more generous on the left side, and a few were charred at the edges.

"Don't let me interrupt," she taunted with a short chuckle. She turned away from us and remarked loudly as she returned to the counter, "all these college girls dating older men to annoy their fathers or replace them."

Romero looked a little uncomfortable at her remark whilst I gave a small grin. "My father had dark red hair," I mused, "it's grey now and he was a business man in a corporation to do with school supplies, he probably still is, he was quite high up, well respected, a firm man. Anyway, you're nothing like that and he would probably hate you," I added brightly.

"Probably?" Romero echoed doubtfully before taking a deep gulp from his coffee.

"Definitely," I corrected before I finally took a tentative sip from my cup. I recoiled from it immediately with a wretch of disgust, it was so strong! I gagged and sat the cup down quickly, cutting off a chunk of pancake hastily and shoving it into my mouth to cover the taste.

Romero gave a low laugh at my reaction and commented dryly, "maybe you needed some sugar in that."

"Maybe," I grumbled before I started to tear into the pancakes with glee, now they were delicious! I devoured them as quickly as I could surprised not only by my sudden hunger but at just how good they tasted! I had forgotten the sticky, sweet pleasure of syrup and how soft and light the pancakes were. What I also forgot was that I was now human and thus could not eat in a blur nor could my stomach deal with the sudden impact of food. I felt a pain stab through me as my stomach churned and grumbled in annoyance at the sudden work I was putting it through and I found myself slamming back against my booth with a groan of pain as I wrapped both my hands about my torso and attempted to resist retching.

"Yeah you'll have to work on...eating," Romero commented calmly before taking another gulp from his coffee.

I found myself leaning forward with several trembles as my stomach fought against me and the food pounded and jumped inside it, slamming against me like rocks. "I feel sick," I murmured as I pushed the plate of half-eaten food away pointedly.

"Uh huh," Romero mused as if he had expected as much.

"Poisoned," I cried out as another sharp jolt of pain rushed through me.

"Unlikely," he argued. "Come on let's go find a room for the night er...morning and rest up a bit, and let you rediscover the toilet as well, in privacy." He stood up and came round to my booth, frowning as I let out several more loud moans. "It would be cute if I hadn't been without sleep for two days and nights now," he scorned me as he held out a hand.

I reached up and grasped his hand and allowed him to escort me out of the diner and round to a familiar set of apartments. The night was cold and for the first time in months I felt it. I shivered and was unsure if I enjoyed the sensation or loathed it. "I had a key for here," I remarked proudly as we reached the main door to the apartments down a filthy alleyway.

"I know," Romero retorted with a roll of his eyes, "though I doubt you have it anymore, still, should be easy enough to get into."

We headed through the main door and up the stairs to apartment 508. I hunted amongst my pockets producing a piece of moulding cookie, a sharpener shaped like a cat, a Hello Kitty wristwatch and finally a collection of keys with a Magic 8 Ball keyring and a seven legged octopus plush attached to them. I held them up one by one but could garner no clues from them and so began trying them out as Romero sighed but wisely chose not to comment. For a man who spent most of his time as a recluse looking at porn and talking on the radio he had an unexpected spark of intelligence in him. The ninth key turned out to be the lucky one that opened my familiar abode, granting us a stale and dull welcoming.

"Ah smelly apartment," I announced as I entered, "I have not missed thee!"

"Has anyone even cleaned in here?" Romero pondered as he looked about. "Ever?"

There was the chair I had once been bound to, the bed Romero and I had made vigorous love in, and Kent's abandoned jacket that he was convinced had become contaminated by the apartment. I knew there were a couple of blood bags still chilling in the fridge, and some petty cash in one drawer. This apartment had only been Ariadne's, though thanks to Jeanette's tricks Sarah's taint haunted it too.

I moved to the bed and sat down on it slowly, it creaked and I felt a spring poking up through the mattress. It amazed and upset me as to how sensitive I suddenly was to the filth and discomfort, what once had mattered only to Toreadors and Ventrue now mattered to mortal me. I had lost all of my extra vampire senses and gained the pathetic sensitivities of a human instead. The bed was lumpy, it would make sleep difficult, the apartment had an unpleasant smell to it and there were cobwebs in every corner, cockroaches running on the floor and dust everywhere I glanced, it was disgusting.

"One sleep, one sleep," I murmured to myself, or selves on the off chance that they listened still. "Just one, just one."

"Yes just one," Romero agreed, "I had forgotten how bad this dump was, easy to forget when you compare everything to a shack."

I turned to face him and said, "you came back for us."

He grinned and nodded. "Of course I did."

"And you helped me, you saved me," I murmured as I took a step towards him.

"Nah, nothing so dramatic," he jested, "I just stopped Kent from nibbling on you."

I grinned at that thought and commented, "the poet would probably complain my blood wasn't good enough." I closed the gap between Romero and I at last and reached up to wrap my arms about him, his shirt was soft under my fingertips and his body warm underneath it. Once I had noticed his heartbeats and the smell of his blood before anything else, now my predatory instincts were gone, and my mind was unclouded as I looked up at him.

The grave guardian leaned down and kissed me, reaching up one hand to weave through my hair gently as he did. It was different but good, there was no craving for blood to be squashed down and no voices yelling at me, it was just me and him and it was most unusual.

I awoke to find the room cold, the blanket rough upon my skin and the mattress lumpy beneath me. I felt Romero's warm hand burrowed into my hair and heard his deep voice talking to someone quietly. Sensing me stir he moved his hand down to my back and rubbed it gently, barely holding back a chuckle when I began to purr in pleasure.

"She's awake now Isaac," the grave guardian remarked, "yes," he added tiredly, "she's still human too." He paused and I glanced over as I felt his olive eyes upon me. He lifted his mobile away, covering the speaker with one finger and quipped, "do you want to talk to him?"

I tensed at the thought; part of me screamed yes but another part was wary and unsure. I reached out for the phone anyway, driven on by one voice or another. My mind felt lonely and quiet now yet soothed too as it started to learn what peace was. "Isaac?" I croaked the name out quietly, afraid to sully it with my mortal tongue.

"Ariadne!" the Baron answered happily. "How are you? Are you safe? Well?"

"Yes," I answered calmly, "safe but...mortal." I could not decide if being mortal meant I was well or not. "Very mortal," I murmured.

"We can fix that," the Baron retorted quickly as if all I needed was a bandage. "I can come to you-"

"Toreador," I interrupted flatly, "I would be Sarah the Toreador not Ariadne the Malkavian."

"You would still be you," Isaac argued, "just not mad." I heard the hesitation in his voice; he had fallen in love with the madness after all. "The voices would finally be quiet," he pointed out, whether to himself or me I was unsure.

"They're quiet now," I confessed, "but not for long, Sarah heard them before Ariadne." I remembered now, whispers in the night, tongues suggesting destruction, laughter mocking the pretty art and urging me to paint blood and death.

"You had them as a mortal?" Isaac asked in surprise.

"Yes," I admitted sorrowfully, "they are me, a Toreador could not deal with them, a Toreador would be madder."

"Perhaps not," Isaac murmured, "perhaps a Toreador would finally silence them. Think about it Ariadne," he begged.

"Don't come to me Isaac, not yet," I pleaded back.

"I won't," he consented, "but I can't wait long, I lost you once, I won't again." It was almost a threat, the Baron would not do without me, he had felt the sting of my loss already and did not want to bear it again.

I handed the phone back to Romero and he accepted it with a suspicious expression. "Isaac? We'll probably just stay in Santa Monica. Yes I'll stay with her. No I don't know how long for, until you ask me back or she asks me to leave. Alright, bye." He hung up and looked to me curiously, waiting for me to explain.

"The Baron wishes to bite me anew and have me reborn as a poet," I admitted stiffly.

"You don't seem happy about that," Romero retorted calmly.

"I do not think a Toreador could cope well with my madness," I admitted, "but I could be wrong. I was wrong about Kent having a secret cat collection."

He gripped my right shoulder gently and said firmly as he looked at me seriously, "you do what you want to do."

I nodded and leaned against him with a sigh, selfishly burrowing my head again him. I did not know what I wanted to do and I did not like that Isaac had placed an unknown time limit upon my decision. Romero wrapped both arms about me and embraced me close; he savoured my company as much as I did his though he would never admit it. "Don't rush back to the world of darkness crazy cat," he advised.


	37. Chapter 37

It took me a while to notice the man posed against a wooden post on the outskirts of The Asylum, his back was against it with his right leg slightly raised, he was dressed in designer clothes, black trousers, a long, black coat and a red shirt. I thought he looked familiar as he walked past the club and I craned my head to stare but I was half-blind now, my human vision blurred, short and poor compared to my vampiric sight. He was hard to make out in the dark with the distraction of strobe lights and the shade of smoke. When he turned his beguiling grin and seductive grey eyes from the hopeful purple haired woman before him I realised who he was. He caught my glance like a shark snaps up a mermaid, and I could not break free. So this was what it was like to be lured in by a monster of the night. How often had I done this to so many supple minded mortals? So often just for fun, a respite from the boredom to please my demanding voices.

I felt Romero's tight grasp on my right arm as I turned towards the vampire, the Ghoul feared I was heading for the club. Then I heard him grumble a curse as he spied whom I did and he pulled me back more forcefully. Suddenly the man, no beast, was before me, weren't we beasts? We? No, no selves, them and us now, and the murky inbetween of Romero and the fleet-footed ghoul.

"Why are you here Kent?" Romero's words were cold and clipped as he pulled me back, away from the fascination, from the grey gaze that held me tight and shackled me the poet. It was horrible and wonderful all at once, I couldn't resist but I wanted to.

Kent looked to me in equal fascination, leaning in to sniff me as he glanced me over. "It is you," he murmured doubtfully, "but it is not. You're not Malk anymore."

"No, she's not," Romero said stiffly, "but you know that because you couldn't hypnotise a vampire."

Kent tore his gaze from me at last to glower at the Ghoul. "Well I could," he bragged though we all knew it was a lie, only the Ventrue could dominate.

I shook my head, had to loosen Kent's uncomfortable hold, it was unnatural, Kent shouldn't be in my head with everyone else, it was crowded enough! "Poet," I spoke at last, wary now of Kent and angry that I had to be, "why are you visiting the lady by the sea?"

"Did you think Isaac would let you wander without one of us?" Kent quipped quietly.

"She has me," Romero protested angrily but I could hear in his voice that he was not surprised. His grip remained tight upon me, ready to wrench me away from Kent's deadly bite. I knew if it came to it that sadly Kent would be too quick for the both of us.

Kent nodded agreeably. "Yes, but you're not enough to protect a Malkavian suddenly mortal who has decided to come to a place where she is recognised more than anywhere else. Seriously Ariadne, still a stupid lunatic then? Don't you think there will be questions? What if some Sabbat here recognises you? There will be torture too. What happened to you...shit it's not natural or safe."

"Would you bite me poet?" I queried innocently. "Because I denied the Baron he sends someone else. Is that it then? He permits me no time limit at all," I commented bitterly.

Kent scowled at me and clenched his fists slightly. "Like I would want you for a Childe," he muttered.

"Is that why you are here?" Romero demanded. "She's barely been human, can't she have that? After all this shit, shouldn't she of all people be entitled to normality and peace?"

"With you?" Kent snapped with an accusing look. "You're hardly human yourself Romero or normal for that matter."

I felt the grave guard flinch slightly and knew he had not thought it through, neither of us had. To be completely human would mean cutting ties with all of them, letting it all go and then... Then what? My family? Phil?

"It would only take one," Kent warned, "just one Sabbat or even one Camarilla fuck to see you and know you and that would be the end. You know too much, far too much and you've been involved in too much, you were no ordinary vampire kid, you fought an ancient, and had God knows what inside you to do it. You were known to a Prince and a Baron and you still are. Never mind the fact that you pissed off Jeanette here and are known to Therese as well, and Jeanette is a mad bitch like you, who knows what she would do to you if she found you human?"

"She's only had one day," Romero retorted quietly, "one damn day, give her more than that."

I looked to him this time, and saw the defeat in his olive eyes. "And then what?" I demanded softly. "Will you let me go?"

Romero looked back at me uneasily and shrugged. "To the humans? If you want, yeah of course I would but...fuck I hate to say it, especially about this asshole, but Kent has a point."

Kent gave a grunt of displeasure and folded his arms before glowering at me as he awaited my response.

I tugged free from Romero's grasp and shook my head angrily before clutching it tightly with both hands as the silent voices suddenly screamed again, a chorus of protests against me turning poet. "No!" I hissed out hatefully. "I won't be a Torry, poetry can't contain the voices, art doesn't quieten the madness, it just makes it worse and worse!" I turned from them both and ran.

I knew Kent could follow with ease so I forced myself into a crowd stumbling in and out of The Asylum, he would not dare use his powers in front of Kine. Kine? You are Kine now; you learn too much the masked men will come for you! I wanted to conceal myself, to shrink down and hide but that gift was gone from me, everything was gone, gifts and curses alike. I slipped down a damp alley, cursing as I skidded on a puddle before I forced myself to quicken, hurrying towards two smokers anxiously, desperate for witnesses lest Kent try to snatch me away.

Toreador was a gilded cage, beautiful but still a prison, I would spout nonsense in a beautiful fashion and sing as my mind tried to destroy me, the art would attempt to be an outlet for the madness but it would never be enough. The voices needed embraced not contained, they would never be contained!

I saw my opportunity just ahead, a chrome and black stallion ready to speed me away. I pushed his black clad rider away and won only out of surprise rather than strength, had to remember I no longer had the undead's strength. With a noisy cry I was off, into the night with a roar and a slightly nervous cry. It had been a long time since I had mounted a metal steed, my cousin's second hand inferior rust bucket to be exact, but I'm sure it would be just the same.

For a moment the roads became a blur, and the screams and curses became my travelling music as I journeyed up and out of the city to the houses up in the hills. I slowed as my steed shook and finally stopped and abandoned it in bushes by the road, it was too wild to be tamed and it gotten me far enough I could go the rest of the way on foot. I was near, they were near, my real kindred, it had been so long would they fear me a ghost, spurn me as forgotten or welcome me as lost? I was nearing the house, the two storey proud property of stone, our home, not our first, not the one where I learned to cycle and play hopscotch, this was after Rob had left, right before I was due to start college. Dearest mum and dad had wanted something new but they still made sure to have space for me and Rob and his family, still kept it big and familiar.

There it was on the left, I was overjoyed to see it and found myself quickening, the chill of the night forgotten with my elation. It was a beautiful house with palm trees and a water feature in the front garden with an angel statue who often told me I would burn in hell. You were close angel, so very close. The long living room window hung low hidden behind the fence and the trees but I could see a glow at the top of it, someone was home. I was home.

I grinned to see the blue post box, its paint chipped and the golden number 223a wonky, dad had always vowed to fix it and yet it remained. Did they miss me? They must miss me. They miss Sarah not Ariadne, they think Sarah's dead and they are right, Sarah died months ago, now Ariadne reigns! I froze at the voices and shook my head angrily. "Shut up, shut up wretches, you're dead now! I live, I breathe, I'm Sarah!" It sounded like a lie, poisonous and thick on my tongue, almost choking me. "Sarah Grey, Sarah Grey," I sang over the voices' jeering.

I was at the driveway now, there were two cars in it, both newish looking, one a polished red and the other a shining black. Red for blood Ariadne, remember blood? Remember the sweet, warm taste, sweeter than candy, warmer than piss. Black for death, black for your funeral Sarah, they've mourned you and moved on. No, no, couldn't mourn me, couldn't mourn her, no body, no funeral! Keep going, just a few more steps and you're home, we're home. NO! "I'm home, just me, my home, no one else's!"

The porch light flicked on and I froze, I heard the door opened and out stepped dad. I looked at him from the gloom, stepping onto the driveway with his keys out ready to go on an errand. He wore black trousers and a loose, linen shirt, it was as casual as he got, it was hard to make out his features from where I stood but I did not think he had changed much. It had not been long I supposed but it seemed a lifetime, well it was, Sarah's lifetime.

I took a step forward and saw him glance my way. Now or never, run back to the night or face the music, face home. I stepped forward again; two more steps and then I could go no more as I froze with nerves. "Hi dad."

Somewhere in the night air dull voices called her name, Ariadne, the lost princess, too late she's lost forever now but Sarah's not, Sarah's home.

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><p><em>It's over! A bit of an open ending I'll admit but I kind of feel in that world nothing would ever be certain. I guess it means there's potential for a sequel, who knows? Thanks to everyone who stuck with this fic and thank you for all the reviews, alerts and favourites, all very much appreciated!<br>_


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